Trench Run
by Sutter Finicky
Summary: The universe is thrown into chaos. Farmers and the citizens of Thebeska band together to fight against a dangerous Empire. Can one disenchanted soul light the spark for rebellion?
1. Chapter 1

Hundreds hunched inside their dirty, stinky trenches doubling as latrines. Men and women huddled together in the cold night, their bodies not used to being exposed to the crisp air without the proper clothing to accommodate. A couple dozen had gotten frostbite on their nose, toes and other limbs and extremities. For those who had facial hair, thinking it would keep them warm, their hair itches and bugs had found their way to nest themselves. It's been days since they've even moved. Safe to say, the people inside are growing antsier by the minute.

Hyatt has grown ill. Frequently coughing phlegm - sometimes blood. Of course, he did his best to keep his condition from being known. The food supply was low, their weapons have rusted and ammunitions grown scarce.

"Yes, you have heard me correct." Hyatt said it a couple of times already. But his foe wanted to hear the pitiable words leave his breath once more. "I surrender my army to you."

Trott looked at the hologram of Hyatt, appearing smaller than the rebel actually was. Behind him the officers celebrated yet another dynamic victory over their Thebeskan foe. Maybe they'll be able to go home now?

"Very well... I only ask you this." Trott goes on. "You must accept as grounds as your unconditional surrender." Perplexed, Hyatt did not respond. "A duel. It is customary." Hyatt chuckles, thanking the Imperial admiral for giving him a good laugh. Then he realized he was serious.

"Customary? This isn't customary!"

"It is for me. I only accept surrender if I'm the one to fire the final shot." Hyatt judges that he was dealing with one of the many high-ranking officials in the Imperial army to suffer from an oversized ego. Albeit, Hyatt acknowledges Trott's pride is a welcome change to officers of the past who've shown to be nothing more than snakes in the grass.

"Alright." Hyatt says. "I accept."

Word spreads of the impending duel, many deriding their commanding officer as a "loon" sometimes to his face. "Sir, You can't possibly expect this to work in our favor!" One says.

"We're surrendering, Maxwell. Nothing is in our favor. I took this job knowing I may have to lay down my life for you men and I fully intend to do that."

Within an hour the Imperials delivered their admiral ready for their one-on-one bout. Trott strolls down the walkway eager, yet, calm, unable to hide his giddiness. He loved to duel. It was a well needed heart pounder that made the dregs of Imperial life worth it.

"Are you ready?" Trott calls out to him. The battlefield, once strung with shells and craters and dead bodies, was now cleared for the most part. The two sides watched not knowing what to make of this.

"1..." Their eyes didn't leave each other.

"2..." Hyatt checked to see if he still had feeling in his fingertips.

"3!" Hyatt got the first shot, the commotion following was enough to create a moments hesitation for both sides. The two were so far from their respective armies, all they could make out was a sound. Not who fired or if anyone was hit. Trott checks his chest to make sure he hadn't been struck. To his delight, Hyatt missed. Calmly, Trott extended his arm and nonchalantly fired the decisive shot. Just like that the opposing army, now leaderless, ran for their lives in an unorganized manner.

Of course, the battle hadn't been won. Yet. While this was a brilliant show of Imperial superiority - and would act as jolly good material for the propaganda films - Thebeska still fought on even as all their political and military leaders they began the conflict with found themselves taking a long dirt nap.


	2. Chapter 2

_In the dead of night the only source of visibility is ones sight. Two large shadows scurried under the radar returning to their vehicle carrying barrels of sweet, exotic nectar. Sneaking them through the narrowest of holes in the wall, the bootlegger was far too consumed counting his credits, planning his escape to assist with the loading. Hassling the two to hurry out of his lair so he could burn all evidence of him being there to a crisp. CeCe growled back it'll cost the bootlegger the next time he tries to rush them._

 _Delivering goods to the various bars is a thankless job. Mykle and CeCe cannot afford to hang around for long to soak in the cheers, the barkeeps hog all the credit. But the pay is generous. Hardly worth the cost of risking ones life to break imperial prohibition laws._

 _"_ _Is it me or is there more of them?" Mykle noticed. CeCe concurred the number of Stormtroopers increased from the previous week. It was a little concerning, the rougher the neighborhoods you'd find the white armored menaces the more prone to violence they'd be. These poor souls were merely drafted into service and not fit for the gruesome nature of battle or even the tedious silence of roaming patrol. CeCe noticed one shaking as he held his blaster._

 _"_ _Makes you wonder why the emperor halted the cloning program." She says._

* * *

Out of all the planets to live on Mykle picked the least remote one, yet managed to get in good with its most powerful family. The Fardis did fill up Mykle's once empty pockets, which helped him make a life for himself. Honestly, after the war he didn't know if there was a such thing for him anymore. Fardi gave him a nice - well, he'd describe it as pretty shabby. Whomever occupied this space before obviously had no personality. There wasn't even a table cloth on the lone table plopped in the middle of the apartment. It's so cramped Mykle banged his shin upon his first entry before moving it against the wall.

To be fair to the previous tenant, Mykle wasn't much of a decorator either. He was rarely home, all he ever did was sleep. The only piece of furniture was an aluminum box containing his B-103 sentry blaster. Mr. Fardi couldn't tie his shoes without Mykle, it made him think the last tenant left because no matter how well the job paid it wasn't worth having this bantha sized burden on your back every day.

"Moe!" Mykle didn't respond, he stayed wrapped in the thin covers that didn't do a good job keeping his body warm from the windchill. The walls are so paper thin it's a wonder how they hold up in the strong winds. He heard the name "Moe" once more, he forgot that was his name for a split second before remembering his alias. "Oh, yeah." Two wires in his brain connect, he rolls out of bed and opens the door to see two small human girls bright eyed innocent. "Father wants you." The taller, possibly older one, Mykle was not sure, said. He was sure her name was Hedala. Sometimes the names sounded like two separate words smushed together.

He takes one look over the horizon. The sun barley is visible, only peaking above the hill. "Can't it wait?" Mykle really could use the extra winks of sleep. The two girls shake their heads simultaneously, no. "Alright, give me a couple minutes." Splashing some water on his face was the only source of pep, his eyes were narrowly open. They desperately needed sleep.

Mykle made sure to never let Chief know his true identity, but by all accounts he did run by all accounts a legitimate business operation. On the surface it was a by the numbers mining company that produced natural resources for the contraptions designed to assist farmers with their harvest. Behind the curtain the Fardi corporation doubled as a smuggling front whether it be in secrecy against the empire or just to get the leg up on competion, Mykle wished to remain apathetic to the whole thing to ensure his uselessness to others trying to get the goods out of him. At times he pondered if he was just doing himself a disservice, then remembered Chief had two mouths to feed and figured their lives meant more than his.

"How are you?" He offered a handshake greeting. Chief had to bend down to reach Mykle's arm he stood as tall as a Coruscant skyscraper, it never ceased to amaze Mykle.

"Tired" Mykle quipped with a sly grin, which garnered a hardy laugh from the plutocrat.

"Well hard work will do that to you." He takes a deathstick carton out of his jacket pocket, before lighting a stick up he offers one to Mykle who kindly declines. "I'll be blunt, seeing as I have bigger fish to fry." Chief always talked like someone who wasn't at the mercy of two dozen loansharks every day. "CeCe is an old friend of mine, and she owes me a favor. Meet her at the Crevo Diner in MiCo and she'll tell you what needs to be done." It's not like Mykle could refuse.

He might as well buy himself some breakfast if he's going to a diner. "Just three slices of toasted bread and fluffed eggs." He lets the waitress know he's in a hurry. The workers were all organics - to his surprise. On Coruscant a hapless establishment like Dex's Diner cut cost by buying up droids to serve. Admittedly it was refreshing to see.

CeCe walked by and rolled her eyes watching Mykle munching his food without a care. "You couldn't wait?" She chides. "You won't have a chance to let it settle." She warns.

"It's toast and eggs, not a buffet." He retorts. "What's the emergency?"

"Another player is attempting to muscle-out C.F out of a prime location." She nonchalantly told him. "Chief found his warehouse ransacked, they stole supplies and intimidated workers to not come into work."

"So, we're acting as protection?" That shouldn't be too hard.

"I wish. We're enacting payback. Sweet, sweet payback."

"Didn't you just say you wish it was protection?" Mykle noticed the contradiction.

"Doesn't mean I don't mind cracking some skulls." She cracks her knuckles in an act of intimidation. Mykle shrugged and took out a deathstick after finishing his meal. "You know how-" she was about to get preachy about the terrors of nicotine, Mykle hardly had it in him to feign interest.

"It's my routine. I get woken up by a pair of hauntingly similar sisters, I get my marching orders, I rush my breakfast so I have time to enjoy a stick." Every day they go through this and every time CeCe complains about inhaling the smoke. The scornful look on her face told him she wasn't driving in the same speeder with his toxic smoke polluting the air. "Alright, fine!" He took two huffs and killed the bud in the dinner plate. "You're no fun." He sneered half-heartily.

CeCe implored him to "upgrade" from his basic blaster got more of an automatic weapon. Stubbornly Mykle rebuked her at every turn. "It's two decades old." She says.

"I kept it in good shape." He protests. "Me and this baby's been through the ringer together." He makes a loving gesture towards the inanimate object, puckering his lips. CeCe was not amused.

"You're going to get yourself killed with that fossil." She warns and he scoffs.

"Oh, you're overdramatic!" He began to get defensive, a hint of an edge in his voice.

To their surprise the compound wasn't heavily fortified, protection was limited to four snipers on either side of the respective roofs. Three garages containing trucks of canisters of gas and various other resources in each garage.

"There's two ways we can do this" CeCe believed. "The Dumb Way and the Slow, Tactical Way."

"So the Dumb Way is smashing through the gates guns blazing?" She nods. "And the tactical route means...-"

"You take the sniper rifle I have in the truck and pick off the sharpshooters." CeCe proposed. Mykle had a glint in his eye, willing to risk himself for some excitement. Not liking the look "we're going the tactical way."

"Aw. You're no fun!" He acted like e was about to pout.

That being said, Mykle did appreciate the feel of the sniper rifle given to him. It's scope possessed fantastic vision, he could make out the freckles on those nearly 2,000 meters away. "Where'd you find this thing?" Mykle asked CeCe who had already descended back to the ground and picked the gate lock without anyone noticing.

"Life Day gift." She said curtly. Mykle replies with genuine curiosity only to be told to quite down so no one gets tipped off. "Blue building, directly under me. Take him out." And in a pinch the guard hit the deck, luckily he didn't fall over the edge and alarm the others.

"That's one" a second later another one bit the dust and then another until they hawks were all gone. "And that's the last of them." Putting to good use her green-light, CeCe placed charges under each of the speeders without anyone being the wiser.

"Three...two...one" the brillance of the terrorizing blast lead to flames engulfing the compound, a good chunk of the small neighborhood was taken out and a smoldering crater was all that was left.

"What did Chief give you?!" Mykle couldn't contain the shock and horror at what was on display. There was no screams, the blast eviscerated them instantly.

"Fardi isn't playing around anymore. She wants to instill fear so no one comes for his turf ever again."

"I'd feel bad if they weren't so authoritarian." Mykle admitted to feeling no remorse. The Fardi empire was the lesser of the evils for sure, they worked for the customers benefit and didn't squeeze them for every penny. Their reputation on Thebeska is as clandestine as pure white snow.

"You ever think how much we could extort from Chief to keep these skeletons from leaving the closet?" CeCe entertained. "He'd freak out if we even alluded to doing this."

"I'm not having it. The Fardis have always been good to us." He says simply.

"I'm just kidding." CeCe assures. But Mykle took loyalty seriously. The Fardis took him in when he had nothing.

"They don't play around with our pay and let us commit petty operations and the cops don't bother." He adds.

The two wasted little time leaving the scene. It wouldn't be long until cops infested the area like termites on a piece of wood. CeCe let Mykle drive back, she was growing tired and needed rest. Mykle didn't realize how much time was taken up by this task. The sun was already down as it was late into the night. Back when Mykle used to put in these 15-hour work days he used to feel a sense of achievement, now it's been replaced with a mixture of guilt and apathy.

CeCe asked whether Mykle wanted to come inside for a drink, to which he declined. All Mykle had on his mind currently was wiring credits back to his family. He asks her to drop him off to the neighborhood he grew up in, the stench alone reminding him why he left in the first place. The sewers were backed up so the dirty water had no where to go but reside in the hazardous sand, which kicked up to his face thanks to the sudden gust of wind. Mykle hated his home. Hated everything about it. Except the people.

"Mykle!" His baby sister burst through the front door her face glowing in joy as Mykle picked her up. She was heavier than before, he looked down to see her legs had gotten fatter and smiled. Truly a sign she is well fed and he's doing his job. "You're going to tear my arms off." He laughs, before setting her gently down. "Now what have I told you about leaving the house at night?" He wags his finger.

"Don't do it." She begins to feel sad. But Mykle tussles her hair to get a giggle out of her.

"It's alright, just remember next time." From the youthful energy of a seven-year-old girl, his eyes cast sight upon the frailness that comes with advanced age. His father slowly descended down the stairs, cane in one shaking hand while the other limply grabbed the banister for extra safety.

"Son" He says warmly. "What brings you here?" Usually he doesn't come this late. "Come come, I cooked a big dinner! Your friends invited too." CeCe didn't get the chance to protest, she was dragged in the house by the tiny hand of Tiana. Mykle looked at her with a smile and a soft chuckle.

"Hope you have no place to be." He said, which produced a cringe from CeCe.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a time when the Jedi brought order to the galaxy. Before the dark times, before the rise of the tyrannical empire and the emperor destroyed all the light in the universe. All of the remaining Jedi were scattered and unable to regroup. Some crawled into their hovels. Some raised up a ragtag group of mercenaries to fight the good fight. Others sought to reconnect themselves to the Force in the abandoned Jedi Temples of the Order's past.

But even that modest quest came with its own peril. The previous temples became bear traps for hunting Jedi. The past was actively shut from all Force-users. It's been nearly a year since Ahsoka had reintegrated herself into the fight, since she left Kaeden on Raada to fulfill her duties to the newly minted rebellion. Even though she was experienced in combat, commanding some significant battles in the Clone War, Ahsoka found out quick how underdeveloped the rebellion army and how limited her role really was.

"How can I possibly fight against the empire from behind a screen?" This wasn't Ahsoka's forte, she excelled in getting her hands dirty on the ground. Admiral Tyvek Dullius was tasked with integrating her into her position. He had heard stories about Ahsoka's master, how fearless he was, he expected Anakin Skywalker but got someone rawer.

"Bit by bit we can organize to take down the empire. We're playing a long game, nowhere near the end." Tyvek explained in a tone Ahsoka resented given its pompous nature. She remembered playing the board game crokin on Raada. Points were often scored by knocking the enemy team's discs off the board, and also by landing discs in the center of the board. It almost was a metaphor for a war of attribution - if only they could take a crucial piece away from the empire.

"I know." She says. "Being on the run while the imperials pickoff our ships one by one isn't how I'd envision the fight."

"Well what did you envision?"

"Raising an army of strong, brave men and women." She says with a glint in her crystal blue eyes. "Like on Raada."

"It's one thing to ask farmers to defend their land, it's another demand to have them jettison their homes." Tyvek summarizes. Ahsoka relented the sentiment was right. She wondered if that's precisely why the Republic elected to use a Clone army over the usual forced conscription. The idea of clones bitting the dust by the thousands was more palatable to the common folk.

It was nice to have these conversations. It beat the constant heart palpitations that came with being on the run. Ahsoka made sure to enjoy these moments calm, a sign of her growth to be sure. Always in a rush to find the action, never resting. She was of a young body and heart. Even though it's been just six-years since her participation in the war, the distance between who she was and who she is now was far greater.


	4. Chapter 4

Chief was the happiest he's ever been. Another competitor muscled out of his territory. The people of Thebeska would not become victims of con artist painting themselves as saviors only to turn once the Fardis were eliminated. Not since the Jedi lived in their midst was life made so easy. But a las, the tranquil feel of comfort was not long lived. The empire constantly checked in, grilling those closest to Chief about the rumors of a Jedi living amongst them. It's odd how they couldn't take the hint their catch was probably on the other side of the universe since leaving.

The heat died down from the previous event. The subsequent police report deciphered the cause of the explosion had to be the toxic, uncontrollable resource of coaxium. Funny. Chief knew the report was bunk but could not help but think this is exactly why he sticks to more sustainable sources of fuel. Coaxium was far too unpredictable and didn't serve any purpose beyond powering the empire's disgustingly large Star Destroyers.

"Ah, CeCe!" He greeted warmly, arms open pulling her into a hug regardless if she welcomed it. Mykle awkwardly waved, Chief paid him little mind. His mind was too unfocused to remember his manners. "You two took another load off my back, there's no way I could possibly repay you."

"I hope you don't mean that literally." Mykle joked, giggling in hopes Chief would understand the motivations. "Of course we're happy to work for someone as generous as you are." He made sure to massage his ego as well.

"Well I can't let my best employees go empty handed." He flashes a smile worth more than he actually is.

"But" CeCe knew what came next.

"Honestly I'm strapped, perhaps a payment plan?" Mykle judged by Chief's face he knew the severity of doing this and last thing he wanted was to drive them to the arms of a competitor. It was as sincere a pseudo-crime boss could be.

"So how are you going to make it up to us?" CeCe asks. Chief stutters as he gets the proposition out in the open.

"Another job." A collective "WHAT?!" escape the their lips.

"We risk our lives for you and your idea of repaying us is another backbreaking job?" CeCe's face turned red, as did Mykle's, but that was more off of impulse and wanting to stay unified with CeCe.

"I...I know it's odd to say the least, but I know this job is sure to pay. He'll pay top dollar for it!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"It'll pay 350,000 credits."

"How?!"

"He's an old friend of mine that wouldn't have called unless he really needed assistance." Chief replies as if that alone was supposed to mean something.

"Who? Where? When?" Mykle asked, resisting the attempt to pull his heartstrings.

"I can't say." It was the worst possible answer. The two turned their backs appearing to exit the meeting disgruntled. "I can pay you a little of what i usually pay you, and give the rest later." They looked at each other and agreed in unison.

"We'll do that."

It made zero sense to do otherwise. "I can't believe Chief thought he could pay us off with some wild bantha chase!" Mykle said. "We made the right choice, right?"

"There are no right choices. We either lose our money or take another job. There's no telling how long it'll be until we get our money." CeCe explained, but wasn't so sure herself. Mykle agreed with her. There was no reason take the offer, this route was easier.

Home life was far more dire than it was previously, and Mykle felt it the moment he walked through the door. Tiana was sleeping on the couch the holonet playing loudly, acting the only source of light. He smiled and picked her up, surprised at how heavy she's gotten. Since Tiana grew out of being a toddler he hadn't had the opportunity to tuck her in, it always filled him with warmth inside. From that gentle feeling it quickly was washed away once he passed his father's room, Dr. Rice had just exited, his face noticeably gloom.

"Oh, Moe!" He jolted. "I haven't seen you since you came home." His glasses were all foggy, Mykle couldn't see the tears red eyes behind the lenses.

"Doctor?" Mykle was taken by surprise by Rice's presence. Tito hadn't experienced any complications to his health the last couple of weeks. "What are you doing here?" Rice sniffled, unable to form anymore words. He's known Tito for a very long time, what he was about to say hurt him almost as much it hurt Mykle.

"Your father... isn't in good health." Rice confided. "I've been in there with him for hours running test after test coming to the same conclusion."

"And?" Mykle tried to act unfazed.

"Years of working in the spice mines have produced spice workers' pneumoconiosis caused by long exposure to the dust, his lungs look like an 75-year-old chainsmoker."

In that moment the entire planet stopped rotation on its axis, it's entirety went dead silent as he sunk into a catatonic state "you're options are incredibly limited and expensive."

"What are they?"

"A lung transplant. There aren't plenty of able donors."

"Why not me?" Mykle suggested without hesitation.

"I suppose. But the operation is 300,000 credits." Rice explained.

"300,000!" Mykle's voice broke like a guitar string tightly strung. "I can't pay that." Mykle didn't want to wake up his father, so he lowered his voice to a whisper. Rice put his hand on Mykle's shoulder, wishing to know what to say.

"I'm sorry." Was what he settled on. It probably was for the best. Rice departed, Mykle looked through the crease in the door that let him see into the bedroom. Tito laid in his bed unable to breathe without the aid of a respirator. He was a man in his mid-50's and likely wouldn't live to see 60 if the money didn't appear out of thin air.

Walking past Tiana's room, she called out to Mykle. "Why do I have to call you 'Moe' in front of people?" She asks multiple times before, he never really answered.

"It's a long story." He would say. Tiana's eyes drew down, her expression turned solemn.

"Are you leaving again?"

"Again?" Mykle was perplexed by the question.

"Dad said you left before, without his permission." Tiana said. Mykle guesses Tito didn't spill all of the beans. "Was it to fight in the war?" She wanted to know, she became giddy awaiting his answer. But Mykle wouldn't comment.

"No, and I'm not leaving. At least I don't want to." He confessed. "I only left the first time because there was nothing for me here... maybe I was stupider then."

"Then why are you gone for so long?" Tiana asks, yawning mid-sentence, snuggling under the covers and on her big fluffy pillow.

"Because we have to all chip in to put food in your tummy." He lightly tapped her belly, getting a chuckle out of Tiana. "I only wants what's best for you."

"Dad want what's best for you too." Tiana added.

 **"But we all can't have what's best."** Mykle thought internally, saying out loud. "We'll get to where we need to go. Good night."

"Good night." Mykle gave his little sister a kiss on the forehead and departed her room, walking over to his. Tito must've woken up, he weakly calls for Mykle to walk over. Slowly he walked towards his ailing father, standing at the foot of his bed.

"Come here." Tito demands. Unable to resist Mykle crept closer, his dad's finger signaled he wanted him to park his keister on the bed facing him, cautiously Mykle obliged. "You haven't been home very much." Again with this, Mykle was growing sick of these complaints. Doesn't Tito know the lengths his son goes through to keep this family out of the poor house. "I'm sure Tiana's made her displeasure known." Mykle nods.

"I-" He wasn't allowed to speak, Tito still had the floor... or the bed, as a matter a fact.

"I'm dying." He didn't bother to bead around the bush. "I need you to take care of Tiana." Mykle then looked at his father dead in the eye, something he only did when he was deathly serious. His eyes studied just how wrinkly his pale skin was, the colorful crystal blue eyes from his youth have turned dim, and somewhat grey.

"I will never let anything happen to her." He said, with little regard for the fact he had just interrupted his authority figure. Tito smiled, didn't say anything else and turned to sleep. The sound of the respirator being the only sound. He tucked his father in snug, his white sheets under his bony arms. Leaving to his own quarters, his head on the pillow sent the dust particles to swarm the sliver of light given off by a lamp left activated on his desk. The dust snuck into his mouth and into his lungs, causing him to cough a bit. His bed spiting out some specs as well when he rolled over. Closing his eyes, the bed seemed warmer than he remembered, his back sinking into its cotton confines.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you insane?" CeCe resisted the urge to sucker-punch Mykle.

"Look, my dad needs surgery and I don't have enough in the savings to pay for it myself. If the price remains the same I'll let you keep what's left. Will you help me?" She looked into Mykle's eyes and saw his genuine plea, he could not do this without her. They've never done missions separated.

"I'm sorry, Mykle, but I have family here too." She regretfully said.

"But-"

"I have a job already lined up anyway. It wouldn't look good to reject my employer after the fact."

"Who?"

"Believe it or not, Jabba the Hutt and I don't want to mess with him." Truer words have never been spoken. If anyone doubted the the power of the Hutts prior to the end of The Clone War, they knew what they're capable of by now.

"That's a shame." Mykle shook his head. How he wished he wasn't about to embark on this journey alone. "I'm going to call Chief and make sure the offer is still on the table. I hope you'll reconsider." In times like this, his mannerisms resembled somewhat of Obi-Wan Kenobi's. He felt the veteran Jedi could talk anyone into doing anything at times.

"I wish that were possible." She said.

"Anything is if you're willing." Mykle added vaguely, then departed. "I don't have a lot on my now, can you cover the bar tab?" He asks. It was the very, very least CeCe could do for him.

Mykle can't remember a time he ever made someone as happy as he made Chief when he told him he'd take the job after all. "What made you change you mind?" Fardi asked.

"I need the money. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"I've assembled a crew for this job, meet them at hanger eight at the spaceport."

"A crew?" Mykle didn't understand why he needed a crew for this job.

"You'll need more than two eyes for this job. Meet them tomorrow." Fardi did not have time to speak for long. The others would fill in the blanks for him.

Mykle returned home after an otherwise unspectacular day. His dad was knocked out on the couch, at first he thought he'd just come back from work but saw his near vegetable-state wouldn't even let him leave the house. Tiana should be back from school at this time of day. Maybe she needed help with her homework, Mykle figured. Usually, it's Tito that does that. He made sure his steps were light up the stairs to not wake his father up and resisted calling Tiana's name. He saw her in his room again, he told her to stay out of there. Even worse, she held his weapon in her dainty hands it's green blade illuminated her brown face showing her wonder.

"Put that down!" He rushed over to steal it from her. The blade retracted like chapstick. "What have I told you about going through my stuff?" He hisses.

"You were a-"

"No! I wasn't." He said on instinct. "Now don't ever bring it up."

"But how'd you get the lightsaber?" Tiana poked holes in the story he's told her like nothing.

"It isn't mind, it's a friends." He replies. "I'm just holding on to it for her." Looking at the hilt longingly, the memories of his past flooded his brain. His left eye began to twinkle as a tear threatened to fall down his cheek. The walls felt like they were caving in, all the bundled up emotion of the past began to flood. Needing to take action, Mykle walked out of the house in a brisk pace and retreated to his usual hangout: a bar located not too far from his home, so he wouldn't have to worry about how'd his intoxicated-self would get back.

The bartender asks what'd he be having, Mykle answered **Net'tra**. Befuddled, the barkeep stood idle, his expression told his patron he was this close to kicking him out until Mykle reiterated. "Black ale" classic Mandalorian beverage, it'll get him plastered in a heartbeat. After a couple of sips the past stopped replaying before him, washed out by the sweet sound of static. His subsequent smile fit the big and dumb description perfectly.

Two seats over on his left, a man was trying his luck with some pretty Mirialan. Her ash black facial markings were in a similar pattern to Barriss Offee, a Jedi prodigy who's rage at the Jedi Order inspired her to orchestrate a great terror attack on the Jedi Temple in the waning days of the Clone War. Mykle lost his last friend that day.

"Come here." His big meaty arm wrapped around her hourglass figure, she pleaded to her friends to intervene, but couldn't because fear of aggression. She resisted, telling him over and over she was married and mothering a child. "Well then, why are you here?" He didn't believe her, despite the evidence to support her on her finger.

"Come home with me" His grip on her tightened, his greasy smile wasn't particularly inviting. She shrieked as she tried to wiggle free. The patrons at the bar didn't pay him no mind, this stuff happens here everyday. You just get numb to it.

"The lady said no!" Mykle said, then polished off his mug. "I may be liquored up but I know when a lady isn't interested." His mannerisms got satirically hospitable when he got buzzed.

Annoyed, the man diverted his attention to Mykle following his voice to identify him. "Mind your own business." He told him.

"Only if you do the same." Mykle told him, hoping he'd understand what he said was for him to let the woman enjoy her night out. Chances are he didn't, judging by how he scrunched his face in response.

"You're not too bright, are you boy?" The man asks, letting the woman go before her face turned purple from lack of oxygen. His grizzly bears walked over towing over a Still seated Mykle - did he know he was still seated?

"My momma said I'm brighter than Cyrus star over Ilum." Mykle smiled, as did the man right before connecting his right fist to his jaw, knocking the young man off his barstool. The man tried to crush Mykle's left arm with his big boot stomping on it, though all that it did was provide an audible metallic clank.

"Outside. Now." The demand wasn't given with a shout, it was quite reserved and confident that he could return to his business after he buried the foolish boy. Picking himself off the dirty, grimy floor, Mykle played with his jaw to make sure it wasn't broken.

"Okay, big boy you got yourself a date." He promised. "Two-minutes." Was all he asked. The man departed, but not before giving Mykle's shoulder a bump.

"Anyone want to see me blast this hero's head off, come outside to the lot and enjoy the show!" He said, earning the bar's attention. The promise of violence always got the attention of rowdy drunks looking for something to mindlessly cheer for. Bets started being made, arguments began, all while Mykle was still putting together what had just occurred.

"Mister," the woman approached him. "I just wanted to thank you for what you just did." She was obviously startled still, her arms trembled against her chest.

"Ah, don't worry about it." He brushed it off.

"What will you do?" She asks.

"You're going home." He told her. "These places are trouble for ladies such as yourselves, go home to your kids." If she saw Mykle talk like this... oh, there'd be trouble for him. But the ladies took kindly to his chivalry and took his advice.

"Son," The barkeep grabbed Mykle by the collar. "I want you out of my bar!" He ordered.

"What If I win?" He proposed humorously.

"Out!"

Mykle would've given a couple credits to make up for the scuffle - only he didn't have anything left in his wallet. Upon leaving he found the gentleman he encouraged gingerly loading up his pistol, Mykle subsequently checked his hip to make sure his blaster was in its holster. He never leaves home without out, this time was no different.

"It was easier to drag you out here than my other victims." He says whilst his back remains turned. "Any last words?"

"We all have better stuff to do, why don't we just let bygones be bygones?" Mykle proposed. The man contemplated, even in his drunken state he could be persuaded.

"Tell you what," his tone simmered "buy me a drink and we'll forget this ever happened."

"Uh... can I come back tomorrow and do that?" He asked, growing sheepish. The now tepid man quickly returned to his unhinged state.

"Draw!" He demanded. They circled each other, their fingers dancing just above the handle of their respective guns. "1...2.." he tried to get the jump and shot just before three. Mykle's quick hand still caught him before a shot from the opposite side could be fired, hitting the drunker gunman in the fibula. He howled as he crumpled to the ground holding his already bloody stump of a leg. Mykle holstered his weapon and briskly walked to give aid to the man.

"Imma call an ambulance." He told him. The distraught gentleman roared, pushing Mykle back.

"Get away from me!" He gritted his teeth rising to his lone good foot, threatening to shoot despite already losing the duel. Luckily patrons left the bar to restrain him. Mykle took the initiative to depart the scene before it got even more out of hand.

Something about meeting new people reverted Mykle to where he was socially as a adolescent. His hands would get clammy, his noggin would feel light. No matter how much he went through it was an issue he'd constantly try to mask.

"You're Moe?" Mykle nods, extending his hand for a good shake towards the woman, she paid his palm no mind. "Fardi said you're a shooter?" She cut to the chase.

"The best in the universe." He gloated. He wanted to be shown around the ship, meet the passengers who were supposed needed to be trusted with his life and vice cress. But the woman didn't introduce herself, she merely turned around and told Mykle to strap himself in for the journey ahead. Perplexed, he did as he was told without resistance, though some second thoughts invaded his thoughts process.

"Pay no mind to Camila. Her social skills are nonexistent." He told him, attempting to comfort Mykle. "Names Dekker."

"Moe. So what's the one thing you're good at?" He worried his humor would be perceived as mean-spirited, Dekker laughter washed those away.

"When Camila lets me, I can fly." He said in self-deprecating manner. "I can shoot with the best of them, too."

There wasn't much time to get familiar with the others, there were only two more besides Camila and Dekker. They walked by Mykle and exchanged a few words. Carrying themselves as straight-faced businessmen, no time for jokes and smiles. Mykle thought this a refreshing departure from his previous endeavors surrounded primarily around dimwitted, narrow-minded fools. CeCe carried most of the weight, while Mykle was her trustworthy companion. He didn't fret about the role. He couldn't bare to withstand the kind of weight on ones shoulders.

He didn't know where he was going or the all the names of those around him. But Mykle was far too tired to worry. Right now he needed sleep. The ship ran into some turbulence, shaking constantly. One rattle too many woke Mykle from his slumber, just as his body was getting used to the acute shaped chair. He unhooked himself from his seat, rubbed his still tired eyes and wandered to the cockpit to discover a familiar grey planet.

"You're kidding..." was all he could bring himself to say, astonished at his (bad) luck.

"What?" Dekker's curiosity was tapped.

"That's my home." He told them.

"Maybe that's why Chief wanted you, none of us have stepped foot on Lianos." Camila informs him. "We'll need a guide. You up to that?" Mykle hadn't been to Lianos in six-years, he wondered if his connections still carried significance. Best not to tell them that, he supposed it was too late to now.

"The last time I was here it was to bury my mom. That was five-years ago."

Upon landing the familiar smell of polluted swamp brought back memories of why exactly Mykle left this planet in the first place, sharing no interest in returning once his family departed as well. Everywhere he looked there was a small swamp or huddled up masses of garbage taking up walking and driving space. The only sounds to signal civilian life was the howling gunshots in the distance. Nonchalantly, Mykle warns the crew to not go in that direction.

"Thanks for the tip." Dekker had to say, or else Camila would think Mykle was serious and consider tossing him out. "We need to find Marvin Elias, formally of the Inchon tribe." He told them.

"I know them!" Mykle couldn't resist sounding off. "I mean, why are we going to them?" He tried to cover himself. Camila and Dekker collectively shrugged, though she mentioned Elias can help them find the tribes' leader. Why they were looking for them, Fardi choose to keep his cards close to the vest, dangling the payday like a carrot in front of a rabbit. It made Mykle wonder why they accepted the job in the first place, his situation was far more dire and had an established history working for Fardi. So there was justification in his blind (apparent) trust.

"Well if you're looking for scum, you won't find them in the bar. The Inchon boss doesn't want his men drunk." Mykle said.

"But he doesn't work there." Camila told him.

"But that's exactly the point, the crime bosses here only hire sober goons." He explained.

"So where would they be?" Dekker finally asked.

"Either gambling their earnings at a casino, or the pod-races. When you can't drink, you're going to gamble. There's two casinos, one located in MiCo, two kilometers from here, and in Fairheights, only one klick."

"And the pod-races?" Camila inquires about.

"Just one. Real scum of the soil territory, in Lionzo."

"Chief told us we don't have time to dilly dattle, so we'll cover more ground splitting up. Mykle, since Lionzo sounds the worst of the three places you described, you go there." Mykle thought Camila was exhibiting dry wit, only to realize she was serious. "Find Elias and ask him about the Operation Pursuit."

"Why?" Mykle's constantly questioning was getting on the nerves of both crew members.

"Because he'll know who sent us." Dekker groaned. They then separated before Mykle could ask about Operation Pursuit. It was starting to gnaw at him how the information was given out in bits and pieces, resembling a puzzle that couldn't be put together until all the parts were identified. But, he still didn't mind the job... whatever the task was, that is.

Mykle never told either Dekker or Camila the shanty conditions Lianos kept their casinos in. Grime was slipping through the walls, a distinct odor of freshly killed vermin combined with the choking smell of nicotine to make a smell worser than what the swamp produced outside. The two have traverse a lot of places in their days, Lianos had to be the worst they've ever been to. They searched high and low and couldn't find Elias, "He hadn't been here in months." Multiple people told him. The story was the same so it couldn't be an elaborate cover-up. Must be at the races.

Secretly, Mykle liked he was given the Lionzo pod-races. The building looked as if the planet sunk its entire funds into creating the most extravagant, bright, lively setting for debauchery in all of the galaxy. The only building to be painted in a loud color it caught the natural eye easily. Inside men and women alike indulged in their guilty pleasures, be it drink, games of chance or whatever else. Teenage Mykle cast judgement on to the miscreants; older, Mykle couldn't have cared less. Bound by the constraints of day-to-day life individuals can only barely withstand the constant scrutiny, only natural they'd exercise the brief liberties they had to the fullest. Lord knows Mykle did so. In the words of his uncle "I burned the candle at both ends for too long, but I had fun" words he didn't understand until his return to his family.

Bringing up Elias' photo, a exotic mustache which ran down to his torso, fluffy cheeked and doe-eyed. His appearance was gawky enough to earn a chuckle from Mykle. Showing the picture to various bookies some laughed too, neither though knew where his whereabouts. Until one gentleman fresh off losing a crisp thousand credits betting on the wrong pod racer tearfully pointed Mykle to the direction of Elias. Elias sat minding his own business watching the races on the big screen at the bar. He sat there as if waiting for his cue to start moving.

"Operation Pursuit" Mykle tootled, earning a scrunched, confused expression as a response. "Fardi sent me" He reiterated. As if brought out of a daze Elias shook the cobwebs off and paid attention.

"So C.F sent you?" Elias thought two people were supposed to meet him. Mykle took out a deathstick and lit the bud.

"Yeah, I'm as shocked as you are." He said dryly.

"Not shocked" Elias shook his head "just disappointed." He chucked, Mykle detected the hint of alcohol in his breath. Guess Marvin fell off the wagon. "I've been unemployed for a couple months." He confessed. Suddenly, some doubts began to sprout within Mykle, worries this mission was about to get him killed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Luckily for you the people you want aren't in the pocket of the empire." Marvin said, which brought great relief to Dekker and Camila.

"Why does it matter?" Mykle asks.

"The contract that called Fardi has ties to the rebellion." Marvin puts bluntly. "At least that's what I've heard." He amends.

"So what are we doing?" Mykle followed-up.

"Word is that rebels' daughter was kidnapped by a crime lord and is being held on Lianos." Marvin went on to explain money is owed to the top-tier criminals, loaned to them to help fight against the empire. "Bosses don't want the empire anywhere near Lianos. It'll make life far too difficult for them, than if anarchy continues to reign."

"So who has the daughter." Camila finally asks.

"Inchon" His lips curl into a noticeable smile. "Haven't said that name in years. I can help you find them. Which I guess is why Fardi dug me up."

Mykle shrugged. While Camila and Marvin discussed other details, Mykle grabbed Dekker's attention.

"I don't trust him." He said. "We can follow him, but let's not ride in the same speeder - certainly with him driving." Dekker seemingly agreed.

"Let's go." Marvin finished his juice, wiping the foam from the top of his lip. Camila wasn't open to having Elias behind the wheel either.

A remnant of Mykle's more imaginative childhood, he expected to go to a high castle where they'd have to scale the sides to get to the top and gain entry. Maybe it was being home that reconnected him to his former self. They arrived outside of the warehouse, it's lights completely shut off blending into the starless night. Marvin was the only one not to leave the speeder, saying he'd keep the engine running in case an hasty escape had to be made.

"I've tracked down that navy blue speeder for the last week, it's always parked outside of this warehouse." He told them. They loaded their blasters, Dekker made sure he secured his blaster-proof vest, Camila mocked him for it.

"So what's the plan?" Mykle asks. "Can't just go in there and start shooting." At least he was hopeful that wasn't that plan.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Steve had asked more than once, his voice getting edgier every time. "Why do we have the Senators' daughter?" The whole thing made zero sense, what made even less was his participation in this scheme. "The money better be good."

They made sure to keep the Senators' daughter in good shape. They didn't lay a finger on her frail skin, made sure she was well fed, though she had to be gagged to be kept from constantly screeching to be saved.

"They'll come." Nwbie tried to convince not just Steve, but himself. This plot's been dragged out for so long, connections to their employer had been cut and they didn't have enough dirt to shorten their sentence if imprisoned. It goes without saying the two have bitten off more than they could chew.

"Look," Steve calmed "let's get down to the brass tax: we have no where to go, so why don't we just let her go and get off this rock?" He proposed, hopefully Nwbie would understand.

"No!" He shrieked. "We stay on course and wait." He couldn't let go, they were far too down the road to turn back - at least in the eyes of Nwbie. There was a knock at the door, a noticeable hush washed over the scene. It wasn't like their previous scrabbling couldn't have not been heard. Considering they were already on edge, the unruffled Steve and turbulent Nwbie mutually agreed aggressive force was their lone course of action.

"Giarioa

Arpat!" Dekker, sensing violence was afoot if nothing was said, howled quick. His words loosely translates from Mand'o 'Proud Seed.' "We our of the Inchon ilk." Seeing as the Inchon crime family saw themselves asthe offspringof Mandalorians. It turned out to be a good choice of words, as they gained entry.

"You don't look nothing like Mandalorians." Nwbie grew antsy, his eyes scanned the appearances of all three, finding Dekker's the most off-putting: his armor didn't have the distinct Mandalorian shine. It was rather crude and lacking anything spectacular.

"What do you expect us to do?" Mykle said to fill in the awkward silence "Nobody here likes us." He admits. That excuse gained them entry, upon it they saw the little girl tied up and gagged. Dekker and Camila's hearts skipped a drastic beat, rendering them catatonic for a brief, but noticeable time.

"That's...-" Dekker was about to say before Camila abruptly shushes him, catching the ire of Steve.

"You seem shocked to find the Senator's daughter here." Now he was growing suspicious. Dekker and Camila tried to wiggle their way out of it, seeing Nwbie's hand creep into his jacket Mykle withdraws his pistol and two shots ring out burning holes in their respective chests. Nwbie shot dead on the floor, eyes still in a acquisitive manner. Meanwhile, Steve clutched tightly with his right and left hands to the bloody hole in his chest. Dekker and Camila stood there, the only sound now was the little girl's wailing. Mykle went over and untied her, he would have taken out her gag but Dekker advised against it.

"After seeing that, she'll be screaming 'till sunrise." His eyes communicated a apologetic expression.

"What was that?" Camila wanted to strangle Mykle right there on the spot. "Do you know the attention you could've brought to us?"

"Hey! I just saved your life." Mykle opens Nwbie's tattered jacket to show his fingers were on the handle of his pistol. Dekker knelt down near Steve, his grip on life fading ever so slowly.

"Let me have a look." He asks, Steve shook his head, all that he gave as a defiant response. Welcoming death, Steve's breaths became shorter and shorter. "Why do you have Bail Organa's daughter?" Dekker asks.

"The empire wants him to capitulate!" He gurgled. "They also offered a lot of money."

Dekker looked behind him, Mykle and Camila were preoccupied comforting the girl, he whispered.

"How much?" Steve's blood soaked teeth showed in an ugly smile.

"A lot" He croaked our before abruptly his breathing ceased, his body stiffened.

* * *

"This is Bail Organa's daughter?!" Camila never thought Chief's payment would be worth the work. "Did you know about this?" She asks Mykle. He shakes his head.

"I don't even know who he is." Of course that was a lie, but over the years Mykle learned to keep a straight face. "Why does it matter?"

"Whatever the imperials promised these two, as to be more than what Chief can provide." Dekker said nonchalantly.

"You're not really considering we work with the empire?" Mykle was aghast. "They're likelier to shoot us dead than to pay us."

"You don't know that." Dekker sounded like he already made up his mind. "Don't act like you don't need the money, Moe!" He points his finger. Aghast, Mykle stammers as Dekker continues. "C'mon, you think I'm an idiot! What kind of kid takes this kind of job unless if he really needs to? So what is it? Gambling debts? Sick relative?" Mykle didn't have a clever retort, that wasn't his department. He just stood there with a stone face expression hoping that'll convey strength.

"Well I need the money and I could do without the imperials watching my every move. I have a history with them and so does Camila." Dekker advances towards the Senators' daughter, Mykle standing in-between.

"But don't you see they'll just use you forever even if they don't kill you?" Mykle says. "I've had to deal with them, knew and lost people thanks to those scum and I can tell you the money isn't worth the metal it's wielded on."

There was silence. Even Ms. Organa seemed enthralled by the back-and-forth, mostly because it involved her wellbeing. She never heard this much about the empire before. Her father went through great lengths to shield her from such conflicts.

"So what's it going to be?" Dekker asks not Mykle, but Camila, who's standing to the side aroused the suspicion of both parties. "I know you have some bosses that need paying off." Camila wasn't indecisive, a look of determination appeared on her face quite masculine in fact. Mykle wrapped his arms behind the girl, his pupils towards the two-story window. As they encircled the two, Mykle held on tight to her and throw themselves out the window it's sharp shattered pieces scrapping his arms and head, his right ear bled. They landed on the shallow brown grass, Mykle's back cushioning the fall. He moaned in agony. His body wasn't built for this.

Picking himself back up he took it upon himself to carry the Senators' daughter out of the lot and into the abandoned street. Perhaps Elias would provide assistance, a possible getaway option was dashed when Elias parked in front of Mykle and held him at gunpoint. At this point, Mykle wished he still had the Force at his disposal. He was pretty quick with the blaster, but he needed a window, just a sliver opening to take advantage of that did not present itself at this time. Soon, Dekker and Camila surrounded him as well. Gagging the girl before she could scream, not that there was anyone within hearing range.

"What was your plan?" Camila gloated. "To run until a transport magically appeared?" Dekker enjoyed the ridicule given to the youngster, but wanted to give him one more chance. Camila shoved Organa's off-spring in the backseat of the speeder.

"I've never met someone so against the empire, whatever did they do to you?" He figures an appeal to reason was the right way to go. When Mykle gave no answer, Dekker sighed. "You're good with the blaster as advertised. We could use you." Mykle's eyes darted left to right, the sun at his back provided sufficient blinding light - Camila had to squint her eyes. Elias barked for them to just shoot Mykle, but Dekker continued to lay out the situation. "Even if you leave we have a way to contact the empire and let them know where you are." He was right, there wasn't anywhere Mykle could go and keep his anonymity if he kept possession of Leia.

"It's either you're in with us, or we kill you and the girl." Mykle seen threw the thinner than silk sheet threat. A strong gust of wind kicked up sand and dirt that momentarily provided a thin screen, clouding the eyesight of those facing Mykle. Withdrawing his hand a small pistol, the size of a toy water blaster across his sleeve and into his left palm, one shot through Dekker's chest, one shot intended for Camila merely nicked her shoulder, Mykle wasted little time stealing the gangsters firearms for himself and holding Marvin up for the speeder.

"Out!" He commanded in his strong surge of adrenaline, his heart pulsating. They sped off in hopes of delivering the cargo before Dekker and Camila's wounds could heal and they inevitably catch up. Even as their images faded as the distance between them grew, Mykle was no calmer.

But none of them were nervous, seeming content to lick their wounds as they watched Mykle drive off. "Why aren't we stopping him?" Elias barked. The two just looked at each other knowingly.


	7. Chapter 7

Word got around fast of a rumored operation that involved the remnants of the Old Galactic Republic. Trott patiently waited for the Intelligence to roll in, his assistants deciphered whether the tips were real or not.

"Chief Fardi hasn't been our ally, I've always wanted to cut him down to size." Trott suspected he was always in league with the rebellion and its leader the Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan.

"There are bigger fish to fry." Lennox points out. "Settling a minor score shouldn't be your first priority." He says coldly that it could cost them assets and manpower. "The campaign on Lothal is of more consequence."

"We already scared them straight." Lennox added.

"Perhaps you're right." Trott was talked down from his previous intentions. He's built a respectable track record for the emperor since being given the task of manning "Operation Knightfall," no reason to jeopardize it with a detour. They were hunting the last of the Jedi, not everyone who shared distain for the empire. Trott wished the emperor did not discontinue the cloning facilities on Kamino, opting for original men. An uprising days after the fall of the republic dissuaded Palpatine from using clones. Destroying the facilities and slaughtering the Kaminoans in the process.

Then, perhaps by the sheer force of the universe an update from intelligence came across the data-pad of Lennox. Taken a back, the words on the screen almost seemed fictitious as the timing was so perfect.

"Commander..." Lennox handed the data-pad to Trott. His face turned malevolent, a mild chuckle escapes his vocal cords.

"Looks like we're going to Thebeska after all."


	8. Chapter 8

Chief was growing tense. The lack of news didn't give him confidence the mission was going all that well. He wanted a recaps every six-hours. Afraid to venture outside, Chief remained in his office as the workers in his warehouse clocked out leaving him to hide under his desk. He sent his secretary home too. A part of him wasn't as paranoid to let the others go out and live their lives. Letting them catch the next train back to their homes and hug their families. It's been two days since he's been home.

The thought of an imperial sniper camping atop a neighboring skyscraper facing the warehouse dominates his mind, cautiously he peered his head above the window to see darkening smoke consume more of the block by the minute. His workers turned and ran back to the building, Chief was happy to give them asylum. He just didn't know how long he could provide it.

The warehouse was stacked the brim with weapons like he wished. The imperials are here and the people do not have the means to defend themselves.

* * *

Returning to Thebeska Mykle noticed the presence of imperial destroyers and roaming TIE fighters. Fortunately, Mykle wasn't the only one trying to get in (or out) of Thebeska, others took up the attention he'd otherwise draw to himself, allowing for a swift sneak through the back. He checked to see if Organa's daughter was tightly secure, she'd been guilty of rummaging through his belongings and playing with the various weapons left on the ship by Dekker and Camila.

"Get out of there!" He'd bark at her as she tried to climb into the air vents - for whatever reason. She didn't talk much, all he knew was her name, but that was by chance. Eventually the news tabloids found out the girl's name, publishing it for all of the universe to see. Leia remains silent, not even a yelp as the imperial ships came into sights. It honestly was starting to creep Mykle out.

"So... Uh... you're the Senators' daughter?" He knew of course, he just wanted to hear her say it. Frankly, he wanted to hear her say anything. He wasn't used to this much silence. The girl didn't respond, she pulled hard to break the strap which kept her confined to her chair. Mykle made sure to wrap it around her chest extra tight, having escaped twice already.

"Not a talker, eh?" He says dryly. The corner of his eye catches her index finger dancing a top the sharp dagger. Where in the universe did she get that? And how fast until she hurts herself with it. Leia tried to cut herself free, only to have Mykle intervene. She hissed as she broke the strap and ran off. Seeing as landing was imminent, Mykle sighed and decided to just let her go. It's not like she could get far.

But wherever Mykle requested to land, he was met with hostilities that matched Leia's fury. He had enough to pay the landing fee, what's the problem? The city and rural area fires tipped him off something was horribly wrong. Settling on landing inconspicuously in the forest, he called for Leia so they could depart... only she was no longer on the ship. Within moments of the ship touching land, the girl managed to dash not only out the door but a considerably distance as Mykle remained seated in the cockpit. His eyes nearly bounced out of his head. He hastily left his belongings to chase her down, but for a little girl she was fast and undaunted by the fog that no doubt hindered her vision.

As he gave chase, the consequences of picking up a habit of smoking three deathsticks a day really picked the worst time to rear its ugly head. His lungs weren't pumping in the amount of oxygen he was accustomed to in his younger, more agile days. He huffed and puffed, his legs growing shakier than a plate of jello. He needed a respite even though he couldn't afford it. And there was this girl, young, jumpy, showing no signs of slowing down. Mykle was able to will himself to civilization, he knew Leia was here, probably taking refuge in one of the saloons. Well... whichever ones that still stood. The whole town was burned to a crisp, even the grass made sizzling sounds when the bottom of his shoes made contract.

The whole setting made Mykle not want to shout the name of the girl he was looking for, afraid it'll attract unwanted attention. He kept his mouth shut, his steps as quiet as can be and searched high and low for her, finding her under a table at a saloon where at least a dozen bodies lay motionless. The sight sent a cold chill down Mykle's spine. He's seen dead bodies before, many times. But to see a little girl, her innocence robbed was another thing. He bent down and spoke softly.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I'm going to protect you and get you home." He looked into her doughy eyes, her puffy cheeks were pale from the fear. "I promise." Perhaps the lust to rediscover something honest in the world, Leia believer Mykle at his word. From this moment he'd have his cargo by his side. But soon Stormtroopers made their presence known, rows and lines of them marched towards the town. They ducked out before they could be detected, running across the bridge to the next town who's population was more frantic than the other. Many people ran like their hair were on fire, the empire was here and apparently was in the middle of pushing the locals out of their homes. But for what? Mykle clung to the slim chance it wasn't for Leia.

Deciding it was better to not waste anymore time, Mykle found a parked speeder, picked its lock and hot-wired it to start, never minding he was stealing. The situation demanded a grey area. It didn't stop Organa's daughter from asking.

"I was told stealing was wrong." She said innocently, yet sharp. Mykle, in no mood to preach decent, wholesome values, sarcastically quipped how she should never do what he's about to, before flooring it.

After numerous failed attempts Mykle finally reached Chief, his tone wasn't jovial like before when he told him he was going to take the job. It took Chief a while to understand Mykle was on the other end of the call.

"Meet me at behind warehouse in Foulke Town." In no time Mykle was there. He had Organa's daughter's tiny hand in his, expecting Chief to be overjoyed but only found a tired, dreary expression.

"What took you so long?!" The red lines in his eyes signaling stress were prominent.

"You're friends are snakes in the grass, that's what held me up." Mykle said.

"What?"

"Dekker and Camila sold you out to the empire." Fardi cursed himself, he was always too trusting.

"Explains why the empire is here..."

"You think they squealed?" Mykle felt stupid for not even considering that possibility.

"Either that or this is just an amazing coincidence. We had to evacuate numerous warehouses and cede control to the imperials."

"Well we gotta get this girl home ASAP." Mykle refocused the conversation.

"Leave her with me, when enough time's passed we can transport her to Alderaan." But Mykle felt there was another way.

"Why not just purchase a transport off the planet? Dress her up, maybe dye her hair, change her face and send drop her off?" He proposed. Honestly, Fardi did not consider this and decided that to be the best course of action.

"I can hardly think with all this drama unfolding before me." He confessed. "I'll get right on to that. You better get home." Fardi sounded more like a concerned parent than a boss. Mykle turned to walk away, leaving the vehicle for Fardi to use. "Hey, Moe!" He called to him, the young adult turned his head. "Thanks for staying loyal. I'll make sure you don't regret it."

Usually, the apathetic Mykle would have made a sarcastic quip about how he just wanted to get paid. There wasn't a bone in his body that doubted Fardi knew he had to empty his pockets already. Instead, he just smiled and left. A brief showing of what he once was in a time that was more hopeful and optimistic. He brushed with the Galactic Civil War and managed to come out the other side clean. That's all you could ask for in this crazy galaxy lacking in order and law.


	9. Chapter 9

_The constant reshuffling of men from one part of the galaxy to the other led Ahsoka to believe the empire's real resource in this war was the exhaustion they'd levy on the resistance fighters, stretching their patience and expendability razor thin. Even though she's had experience in the field area of combat, Ahsoka couldn't shake past habits of brashness which defined her youth. Usually placed in second command behind Tyvek Derry, a more seasoned leader around her age. When Bail told her of the situation she actually accepted it, voicing little to no objection._

 _Being "Fulcrum" met Ahsoka Tano was buried once again. It had to be this way to ensure maximum effect for her duel identity. Having to play the role she's never had to play: a somewhat crooked figure dancing around the grey areas for the greater good. She thought she was getting better striking backroom deals with shady characters for assistance - just last week she managed to wrangle known pirate Hondo Ohnaka in for six mid-sized freighters and twelve starfighters. But Tyvek was on another level of mischievousness. He wasn't afraid to back you down and get in your face. Ahsoka was far too calm and reasonable to play this role. The Tano of old was not, however. The years have mellowed the once spunky teen considerably._

 _"_ _Remember your lines." Tyvek would say, as if getting ready to perform on the grandest of stages on Coruscant. Everything about Tyvek, how he carried himself and spoke, screamed showtime and a love for the theatrics. Well, this was, as he'd put it "time to shine."_

 _"_ _Credus!" Ahsoka barked at the lollygager, dressed in the finest of fabric, but put together so haphazard. Tyvek marches forward apparently to the tune of his own drum ready to put his hands on Credus, only stopped by Ahsoka intervening._

 _"_ _Where's the money?" Tyvek acted like a mob boss ready to break some thumbs. "You're late, two weeks." He told him. Ahsoka gave off a look that communicated to Credus that she couldn't hold him off for long._

 _"_ _I can get it." He'd say impulsively, looking deep within his wits to talk himself out of this jam. "I... uh... running a company is expensive." His excuse didn't do much to change any minds._

 _"_ _How much do you have now?" Ahsoka asked gently._

 _"_ _2,000" Credus confessed. Their jaws dropped. Only 2,000?_

 _"_ _You're supposed to give us $60,000. Or is running a company with little regulation somehow costing you?" Tyvek hated doing business with entitled twats. Credus didn't have high standards for the conditions for his workers. People like Credus didn't want to see the empire fall because of a reestablishment of democracy in the galaxy, but to evade the heavy taxation to support their vast army._

 _"_ _Or do you want the empire to raid your storage facilities?" Tyvek asked, which put enough fear in Credus who opened the safe behind him._

 _"_ _25,000" he tossed on to the table. "That's all I have for now." Observing the pile of credits, Tyvek sighed._

 _"_ _I guess we'll have to make do with this." They departed, Ahsoka tossed in a harmless thank you for good measure to cement her role as the good cop. "We'll be back for the rest."_

 _After leaving, Tyvek received a recorded transmission from one of the commanders aboard the Tantive. Classifying the events unfolding on Thebeska as needing immediate tending too._

 _"_ _Didn't you live on Thebeska?" Tyvek looked to Ahsoka._

 _"_ _Not for some time." She responded, downplaying her role she played in the modest farmer uprising that was crushed._

 _"_ _But I thought you were close to the Fardi Family?"_

 _"_ _I was... but-"_

 _"_ _Is there anyone there you can contract that could possibly help?" Tyvek asks. Ahsoka shrugged, nonchalant._

 _"_ _I think so."_


	10. Chapter 10

The long walk home was relaxing. The most easy Mykle's felt in years, fresh off his heart pounding harder than its has in years. What he missed the most wasn't the pulsating action, but the cool down after. It didn't last long as checkpoints sprung up overnight demanding identification.

"Halt!" A trooper at the gate pushed Mykle in the chest. "Let me see some identification." Mykle feigned ignorance and a basic understanding of his language.

"Sir.. I...I do not... I do not know what you are speaking of." He mock pleads, clasping his hands together in a begging gesture. "I am late for my job. I cannot be late." His tongue movements got more wildly with each word said. "I cannot be late." He kept talking and talking until the trooper gave up and let him pass.

"Just bring your information next time." His gruff tone lacking the proper pronunciation of the letter 'R'.

Like the last town he visited the people, when they weren't held up at gunpoint, ran seemingly without any sense of direction. Hastily packing their belongings in their vehicles and speeding off. Massive pile ups followed, people climbing on top of one another. Whatever what was going on, the imperials didn't have a hold on the situation either.

Walking to the nearest convenient store to buy a pack of deathsticks, Mykle asked the cashier what's with all the commotion.

"The empire's acquired this land, as it did many others. People have the choice to take whatever they're willing to pay and accept relocation." He told him. Mykle wondered how this effects him, he didn't mind moving but at the same time his hobble was owned by a private corporation. So did the empire have the ability to kick him out? His train of thought was derailed when his concerns turned to his other home and the well-being of his family.

"Are they doing this to every town?" The cashier nods, Mykle instantly begins to panic and hastily leaves the premises to make a mad dash to his old neighborhood. What he found when he got there confirmed his fears. His home, long burned down and reduced to warm ash, there was no traces of anyone living here. All of Mykle's belongings vanished, never to be seen again. And what of his father and baby sister? The mere thought of their untimely end brought great stress to his heart he feared it was in the beginning stages of failing him. For all he knew, they were gone. His home wasn't the only one incinerated. The entire neighborhood was burned to a crisp, the population must've mounted a brilliant show of bravery and fought back, only to pay the hefty price.

Truth be told Mykle was not as strong as he'd like those around him to believe. Quick to emotion, his eyes watered up like the child he once was. No longer able to conceal himself, he choked on his sorrows, his feet moving as if they possessed a mind of their own, having no idea where to go. The last piece of relevance in his life was gone. Those charred skeleton laying across one another was all the evidence he needed. No stranger to war, the sight of causalities never settled with him.

Luckily the saloon still stood. The bartender who kicked Mykle out days ago saw the wry look on his face begging for an alcoholic beverage. His heart softened, he too suffered at the hands of the empire in the recent massacre. Something about horrors of loss made even the roughest men warm. Without saying a word the barkeep slide a tall, cold drink Mykle's way. He was very grateful. He went to his pocket to pay, but was informed that all first drinks were on the house tonight. Mykle wasn't the only one who needed to kill a couple brain cells.

But Mykle didn't stop at one cup. Nor did he stop at two. The voices in his head drowned in the more liquor he consumed. The more he drank the more talkative he'd become, telling his life story despite the fact no one asked.

"You seem to know a lot about the empire." One patron finally spoke up to halt Mykle's incessant rambling.

"Settle a bet between me and my friend, is there a such a person named 'Vader'?" The question made Mykle scoff uncontrollably, as if he were a snooty aristocratic at a wine tasting.

"I'll do you one better!" He bellowed, followed by a loud burp. "I knew him before he was confined to that coffin of a hazmat suit." His eyes lost focus, they stared at nothing. "He was Anakin Skywalker." The whole bar erupted, not out of shock at the revaluation but because they doubted its validity, some expression the hardiest of laughter.

"Skywalker died on Mustafar trying to apprehend the Separatist leaders." One person said, Mykle couldn't see. He hopped up out of his barstool and address whomever spoke wobbling around the room, it spun around him like a carousel.

"Oh, Anakin surely did 'die' on Mustafar." He conceded. "His body was slice into pieces and shoved in the black suit you see now." Maybe it was the drinks talking that inspired the patrons to roar in various opinions. _Why would his body be cut up?_ One asked, "He was near death, the emperor found him and 'saved' him." Mykle would answer. _What about the rumors of his marriage to Senator Amidala, former queen of the Naboo?_ "All true. Would have dominated the headlines if I had a looser lip." Mykle assures. The more he talked the faster the room spun, his stomach felt unhooked from his body.

A hand came out of nowhere to grab his shoulder, bringing him to a room where the bartender kept his extra liquor. It was dark, all Mykle had to go on was the sound of a feminine, but monotone voice.

"You need to stay quiet, you're attracting attention." She chastised. It was all too familiar to Mykle, even in his euphoric state.

"Ahso..." Her cowl was pushed down, revealing blue and white montrals that reached two centimeters above him, reached down to her chest, but all in all, she looked exactly as he remembered her. His expression turned from sweet to sour, scowling. "What the fuck you want?!" All the commotion was too much for his brain to comprehend, succumbing to all that was around him he blacked out, falling face first at her feet.


	11. Chapter 11

_Burning marble, accompanied only by the scent of burnt flesh, the Jedi Temple lay in ruins. Generations of history torn, scattered to the winds. In the middle of it a boy in his late-teens, an outcast coming home to partake in a heroic last stand. The handle of his lightsaber burned in his sore hand, his blood tricked down his wrist. His small band of mercenaries who remained loyal to him were all dead. Every couple of minutes he'd come across the remains of a former friend laying motionless, smoke still emitting from their corpses. The lights are out, only a green blade of his weapon and the occasional red light to signal a Clone's intent to fire to act as the light. Though improved in his technique over the years, about one or two shots managed to nick him in his leg to slow his movements._

 _"Mykle, you've done enough. Get out!" Her voice begged him. After ignoring her for some time Mykle responded._

 _"Not until I know." He says oddly calm given the calamity around him. CeCe continued to pester him._

 _"You won't like what you find." She promised. But a piece of Mykle still had hope the rumors were not true. He needed to see for himself. "There isn't more you can do, we've saved hundreds of Younglings." CeCe tried to talk him out of venturing deeper inside the temple, but to no avail._

 _The word 'hundreds' should have been thousands, Mykle thought. He didn't act fast enough, waffling on whether he should have returned to his old stomping grounds. Allowing the bitterness towards the Jedi to consume his emotions. To many, the Jedi are the only family they've known; to Mykle the Order kept him at arms length._

 _His team dutifully short-circuited the electrical grid, knocking out every light inside the temple. Under the guise of darkness, Mykle walked to the Jedi Archives, dimly lit, only a couple of Clones occupied the space desperately trying to reboot the shutdown computer. Snipping one trooper from the shadows, and then another, before the last one stationed at the computer could even turn around._

 _"WHERE IS HE?" The Clone recognized Mykle instantly, calling him by name. Unamused, Mykle again demanded Anakin's whereabouts. Relenting, the Clone said he's gone to Mustafar. At this moment the computer finished rebooting. "What is that?" The Clone, programmed to serve his master to his last breath refused to comment. Mykle reminded the Clone that despite them knowing one another, he had no qualms killing him in cold blood. Again, the soldier relented, electing to show Mykle the tape. What played before him was Anakin slaughtering Jedi and Younglings without a hitch, the children who dared fight against the Jedi Master had little hope seeing as they couldn't compete against his superior stature and didn't possess actual lightsabers. The sight broke Mykle's heart, confirming the worst of his fears. Clones were also seen slaughtering the children. A mad glint appeared in Mykle's eyes, without looking away he shot through the chest of the Clone. And did it again. And again. And again. Kicking his armored corpse, howling in anger in a tone that sounded well beyond his years._


	12. Chapter 12

Coming too, Mykle hangover made its presence admittedly known. Throbbing against his skull, shaking like jello. There she was, standing stoically. Curiously, there wasn't an expression on Mykle's face to greet her.

"I thought this might help." She hands him a cup of ginger tea. Tea. Such a cliché misconception that all Jedi drank it. Mykle despised its sour taste. "I know it's not your favorite but it'll-"

"Thanks." Mykle says coldly. His head still pounding, the nausea was making its presence known as well. A silence came over them.

"I just wanted to tell you that..." she searched for the words to convey the emotions she explicitly was told not to express, finding in her mental rolodex no such verbiage. "The rebellion is grateful for your assistance." Mykle gave her a tired smile.

"Thanks for the tea." He places the liquid down, gets up to leave without as much as a glance towards her.

"Mykle-" She says in an effort to make him stay.

"Don't call me that here." He tells her. "Call me Moe." She smirks.

"Is that what you go by now?"

"Ever since Order 66, Yeah." He turns to leave again, but her words kept him tied to where he stood. Finally breaking free of her grasp, only to have her follow, under her cowl.

"What you've been up too?" Ahsoka asks casually.

"Nothing much." Mykle pats his vest looking for his packet of deathsticks. He looks to see Ahsoka holding the packet, staring at him cockily. "Even now." He scorns, yet laughs a little. "You shouldn't be following me."

"I don't see why not, I have the time." She lies.

"Don't you have a rebellion to lead?" He asks sarcastically.

"Oh, you know?" She was genuinely surprised. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the galaxy?" She sounded quite scornful in her retort, a little angry. Which irked Mykle. What right does she have to feel such a way. He just wanted to get away from her.

"Alright, since you're tagging along I have something I want to give you." She followed him back to the ashes of his father's home, rummaging through the tatters trying hard not to inhale the dangerous fumes. Picking up a steel box, blowing off the black and grey ashes before handing it to Ahsoka casually. "Open it." Was all he said, hoping to instill some uneasiness in her just for giggles.

"My lightsaber." Her blue eyes widen in apparent amazement. After an interim of silence, Mykle spoke.

"I can't believe they're all gone."

"Who?" She asks.

"Everyone." He sighs. "Everyone I ever held near and dear, there's nothing left for me. You don't understand, the Jedi forbade attachments."

That comment hurt Ahsoka. "I'm not apathetic towards your suffering." She said truthfully, but Mykle wasn't convinced. "We at the rebellion are grateful for your help." This raised Mykle's curiosity.

"What?"

"Bail Organa can't tell you how happy he is you saved his daughter." Being out of the loop, Mykle didn't care enough to ask Ahsoka to fill in the blanks and just nodded. "Do you want-"

"No." He knew what she was going to ask. "I'm done. I've been done." He repeated, the hurt in his eyes communicated to Ahsoka that he truly meant what he said. From early on in their relationship, Mykle was on her level of idealism, an admiration for adventure. Of course, the years have matured her as it did many. But for Mykle, from where she stood, Ahsoka saw that time sucked the color from his skin, adding wrinkles around his eyes. It outright startled her.

"We've saved an awful lot of people from the raids." Ahsoka tells him. "Maybe..."

"I can't do that." He begged her not to feed him false hope. "I... just need to leave."


	13. Chapter 13

They outnumbered the militia 1:10. Hilariously outgunned the lowly farmers taking up arms to haphazardly defend their fields. Yet, they couldn't accomplish their goal; the famous Senator Organa's flesh and blood is on Thebeska, on the orders of his superiors Trott was to rescue the poor girl in order to gain good press for the emperor "Look how magnanimous our dear leader is! He saved the loved ones of his political enemies" the reporters would say. Trott sort of resented the fact his name would barley be a footnote in the ensuing story, unless they fail.

Absolutely no one on the ground was talking. There was little to go on or suggest the intelligence was correct in saying Ms. Organa was even in Thebeska. Whomever held her knew how to pull the wool over the eyes of many. And it wasn't just the child. Chief Fardi and his various allies have not been uncovered, no matter what they threaten their likeness never showed.

"His majesty sends me on these wild bantha chases purely for his enjoyment!" Trott barked to his subordinates. He didn't blame them one iota for the roadblocks they've encountered, he knew how hard it was to command an army instructed to find people and also not burn the various means of extracting or transporting supplies to them. In Trott's mind, the empire was unfairly labeled as savages. Quite the contrary, they were extra careful to preserve the property of farmers. Trott often wrote in his diary the "misconception" applied by detractors of the emperor.

"I suppose if anyone is to take up this thankless task, it is I who possesses the fortitude to perform."

To the farmers credit, they knew how to utilize trench warfare, digging in their fire acting as a wall to keep the imperials from advance from point A to point B quick enough. This wasn't going on in just one theatre, but dozens. At the end of his fuse, Trott asked Governor Tarkin for the green light to take up a more "impactful" offensive. He was rebuffed multiple times before being told no.

"What are you asking for Commander?" One officer inquires. Outside of the liberal use of adjectives, no one really knew what Trott was referring to when he asked to take the gloves off.

"I want to flood the trenches with various deadly gases and smoke the croppers out of their holes to either surrender or be blown to pieces." Trott didn't bother to go into specifics. He didn't trust those around him. After some thought, he took a breath before deciding to buck his superior and go about with a scaled back version of his plans for the battle. "In fact, let's do that." He said cheerfully optimistic.

* * *

Down on the ground men and women harden by on/off battles sat in their stinky, wet trenches. It began to rain, those who've gone unwashed for a couple days took the opportunity to undress and bath in the cold drops of water. Others filled their canteens, careful not to poke their heads or any extremity for that matter above the trench so as not to giveaway their position. It's been an hour since the last gunshot, creating the opportunity to dig deeper, to carve out more routes to run through. The most senior fights have only a few weeks of fighting experience at their disposal, nonetheless they were the de facto leaders, sternly warned the Minutemen to "dig quietly."

"I thought we'd see some AT-AT Walkers." One comments. Happy those gargantuan four-legged monstrosities aren't galloping about the plain.

"The Empire wants to use us as laborers to fill their bellies. Can't do that is everything is on fire." Another explains.

Fardi delivered supplies whenever he could, scratching his company name off various crates and guns to keep anonymity. The warehouses that weren't taken over by imperials were emptied and burned preemptively to rob the empire of the utilities inside. His last act before going underground.

"Make this last" he pleaded to one of the men. They thought he was making the comment tongue and cheek, but soon knew Chief was deadly serious.

"Don't waste a single shot!" They'd remind themselves.

The months between rebellions allowed the farmers to learn why exactly they lost the first time. They weren't clever enough. The average Thebeskan could not compete with the average Stormtrooper in accuracy. They can lay trap after trap to make sure by the time the white armored devils reached them they'd be worn down. Meters of barbed wiring reaching great lengths matched the metallic covered soil perfectly, piercing through the tiniest of creases in the lower parts of the Stormtroopers armor. And that wasn't all. Landmines and stake pits placed about. A fairly bloody, merciless way to conduct war. But as CeCe put it.

"It's war! What do you expect!" She took it upon herself to lead a small contingency of souls who weren't modest farmers. Many were charitable bounty hunters and smugglers holding the cliché heart of gold.

"It's good to get the band back together." Chester dryly comments, finishing off his big bottle of scotch. CeCe snags it away, though failing to preserve a droplet.

"Save some next time!" She chastises. Chester rolls his eyes before letting out a quiet belch.

"I shoot better when drunk." He defends.

"So do I." Jennings self-inserts himself into the conversation. Across from them a camp keeping the brightest of Thebeska. Those who could work the machinery and read the texts were dragged into service by hook or by crook to avoid them serving the resistance.

"Things have a way of moving fast." Jennings noted. "This camp wasn't here a week ago."

"It was where the Separatist used to develop their battle droids." CeCe told him. The lightbulb went on above her head, an idea to be shelved mentally for another time. Inside the camp the imperials worked the Thebeskans to the bone, whipping them like cattle if their motions slowed slightly.

"Faster!" The officer would bark viciously. He'd continue to say, adding threats to shock the workers slacking with a cattle prod right under the ribcage opting to make good use of it quite a few times. From first glance CeCe could see a specific kind of cruelty being inflicted by the imperials, rather than killing those who would not fall in line they made them take up the work of a slave droid. There wasn't a moment to waste. Soon the conditions of the camp would rob the prisoners of their body structure, strength in bones and possibly their sanity. All needed to have them fight against the imperials if they choose.

Chester checks his jacket to make sure his grenades are "safe and secure." CeCe slapped his hand down.

"What are you doing?! We can't use those here, you'll blow the poor souls to bits." Sheepishly Chester left the grenades alone. CeCe initially thought to override the power grid, but the large stained glass windows provided enough light for the entire day. They couldn't wait until nightfall or the cargo would be transferred from this area to one that be even more difficult to extract them from.

Climbing the latter to the roof, CeCe sighed one breath of relief seeing no watchtowers in sight. Spotting a crease on one of the windows placed on the roof, CeCe applied the silencer to her pistol and aimed its sight on a patrolling officer stationed with his sniper rifle scanning the workers for any potential runaways. One shot did away with him, falling face forward towards his doom. This alerts those inside and instantly they begin to return fire. CeCe immediately curses herself for giving away the element of surprise.

"We only have moments before they load the transports!" She told the small band to start fighting fire with fire. Forgetting the lessons of before, Chester meekly rolls a grenade through the window crease destroying the catwalk inside. CeCe yelled at Chester, saying his recklessness could have killed someone that they've been tasked with saving. Confiscating the rest of his explosives. But the ensuing smoke and fire sparked by the lone explosive triggered the sprinklers, inaudible orders were barked by the officers but the panic of the situation made them unable to comply. The laborers saw their opening and seized upon it.

They left in a mad dash, leaving many military officials tied and gagged rather than kill them while defenseless. Chester and Jennings wished to do-away with them and throw their corpses in the nearby river. CeCe detested this, the job they came to do was done and now was a time to preserve the ammo they still had.


	14. Chapter 14

"No." Mykle told her point blank. They had returned to the little cave Ahsoka dragged his drunken body to the previous night.

"What ever happened to your pride?!" She prods him to act like his old-self.

"It's gone." He said, again point blank. "I'll help keep you safe while you're here, but I'll do no more." He promised. Ahsoka wasn't convinced, also somewhat offended.

"Oh?" She begins to give him a coy expression. "I need help in that department?"

"Well, I wasn't captured on six separate occasions." He jabs back.

"At least the enemy wanted to take me prisoner." She shoots back. Quite true, the CIS didn't even deem Mykle worthy of being taken as a prisoner of war to be subsequently interrogated.

"I knew things!" He swore. Ahsoka reminded him he knew very little and that was purposeful.

Slowly opening the lid, the object inside brought back memories in a flash. She thought to have left them on the fake grave of Captain Rex after the Mandalore Siege. "How long have you had it?"

"Since we last talked. You said you'd come back, I said I'd give you back your lightsabers." He brought up a memories Ahsoka didn't even remember. Not knowing what to say, Ahsoka pivoted to a new topic of conversation.

"I already have new lightsabers." She taps one of her recently built weapons proudly, looking around before igniting one, showing Mykle the brilliant white blade. Mykle allowed himself to be overtaken by astonishment.

"Wow. I've never seen a white lightsaber before."

"It signifies purity." Mykle refused to fawn over her, deep down he knew she deserved the title of "pure."

"Yah..." he smiles warmly, before turning back to a somber expression. "Lemme talk you out for a drink." It wasn't an attempt to get a pity date from an old friend. His throat was dry, and closing. Plus the images of terror started to creep back into his mind, the strongest of alcohol was needed to drown them head first. Perhaps it was the the look in his eyes that told her he should never be left alone, Ahsoka rarely indulged in drink, never inhaling the scent of deathsticks - unless if it were second hand, then she could not help it. She elected to join him, but asked to attend a different saloon. Mykle intended to just return to the same one he drank at days before.

Mykle didn't drink as much like before. He nursed his softer liquor, a noticeable warm smile stayed on his face, jovial to reconnect with an old friend. The tenseness and bitterness washed away from the shores of his mind and heart.

"You're not here just to tell me how grateful the rebellion is for my heroics." He says, moderately buzzed. "A birdie told me of a feminine soul raising the moral of beaten down farmers inspiring them to take up arms against the vengeful empire!" Mykle spoke as if reciting a paragraph from a historical book, his dramatic drawl aided by the whisper in volume he spoke it. "From my deductions, it is not foolish to guess that 'feminine soul' was very well you." She smiled and nodded in response before finally accepting her role.

"And I guess you're here to finish the job? I mean, why not? While you're here it's good to help the little guy while they're down. Well I'm here to tell you you're little farm boys and girls are quite brutal, you'll see for yourself." He approved of their gorilla tactics, it was the only way for someone so poor to contend against their button-up adversary.

"So will you?" She asked again, kind of getting impatient. His expression remained jovial, though he himself wasn't optimistic. "I know your hurt, but you can prevent others from suffering the same pain you're experiencing right now."

"We'll play it by ear." He shrugged. "Truth be told I miss the rush of battle. Though it won't be the same."

"Why do you say that?" She doesn't know what he's talking about, war is war.

"Their are real people in those trenches. Ones with families to take care of. I don't know if I can handle such responsibility. I was no much of a commander in the Clone War, but I kept calm knowing the men thrown in the blender were merely clones of an already dead man." Ahsoka never heard Mykle spoke like this before, such a horrible way to think of your fellow soldier as expendable cannon fodder. Mykle's eyes started to lose focus, drawing away from her eyes to to stare miserably at his drink. "Savage brutes." He said with theatrics reminiscent to a man on stage in the middle of his sorrowful soliloquy. "Programmed only to follow orders, even the most sadistic acts."

"Not all of them-" Ahsoka tried to interject, sparking a fire inside Mykle's belly to turn back to her a new kind of fury in his eyes.

"ALL OF THEM!" His passion cooled, returning to the reserve, somberness he was but moments prior. Ahsoka did not have anything else to say, fed up with the bigotry she up and left.

"If you want to join us come here." She whispered the address in his ear, whether he was listening or tuned her out. All the while Mykle could only think of one person... Tiana.


	15. Chapter 15

_It took an awful lot to convince his acquaintances back home that he in fact is a Jedi - in training. The lack of a lightsaber made those around him ultra skeptical. After Mortis Mykle's master thought he needed a mental respite. He choose to unwind home on Lianos, only to find his family, who he abruptly left to join the Order, was no longer residing in the old neighborhood. Where they moved no one knew. It's not like communication between them was cut in the year he spent on Coruscant, they could have told him._

 _"Whoa!" Conner spotted him not too far away, a small bag of his belongings slung over his slender shoulder. "Big man's return!" He greeted him with a friendly hug. "What brings you here?"_

 _"R & R." He answers. Conner's place of work was the jeweler. The windows haven't been smashed, the paint wasn't peeling off like when Mykle left. Lianos cleaned its act up after the Separatist invasion attempt was repelled. _

_"Where's Martin?" He asks._

 _"Retired." Conner answered. "You're looking at the new manager." His hands went to the side of his torso, mimicking a pair of suspenders and puffed his chest out._

 _"Wow! That's awesome." They talked for a brief while, Conner deciding it be great for Mykle to see the old gang again._

 _"Hey, Fleetwood, run the shop for me while I'm gone!" He ordered the adolescent._

 _Mykle expected to be greeted with open arms when he met his friends, instead they didn't even look at him when Conner announced his presence. They all were busy repairing the porch to one of the houses that fell victim to the invasion._

 _"Well look who it is." Lue was the first one to acknowledge Mykle. "Long time, no see." But he wasn't as chipper as Conner was in his greeting._

 _"What?" Mykle got defensive and grew confused._

 _"You leave without saying a word and expect a ticker tape parade?" Lonnie chimes in, equally as disgusted. Interestingly, none of them looked at Mykle._

 _"CeCe was supposed to-" Mykle was about to pass the buck, immediately they jumped down his throat._

 _"It wasn't her job to say your goodbye!" He sternly told him._

 _"I had to go, I didn't have time. They didn't give it to me." Mykle retorted, looking to Conner for any semblance of backup. Only he went into a shell. "C'mon C, help a brother out."_

 _"You just don't get it." Lue dropped his tools and went right up to Mykle. "We needed you here. When the Inchon hunted us down, we stand together or fall apart."_

 _"We talked about this. You knew what I wanted when I told you." Mykle growled._


	16. Chapter 16

Tyvek never commanded such a people before. So desperate to defend their home, only they did not know how. Mothers were willing to take up arms at a moments notice, they'd gleefully send their offspring to battle if it was to fight the evil empire. He respected this immensely. Not even his brothers in arms laid down so much in such a short period of time. Ahsoka's fingerprints were very visible, even if she did not intend for every boy and girl over the age of 14 to be on the frontlines.

Ahsoka returned ready to open up the imperial stranglehold. "How did it go?" Tyvek was well aware of who Ahsoka was trying to recruit. She didn't look too optimistic and gave a noncommittal answer. "It won't matter." Tyvek assures, not knowing he sounded quite pompous in his wording.

"What is our situation?" She got right down to business, taking in all the intelligence that would have overwhelmed her in her days as a mere Padawan. The calm Tyvek exuded reminded her a lot of Rex from her days serving of the previous war, but Tyvek got a high end education first hand, coming up through the ranks to deserve his place.

"You need to get your men from their farms and into the positions we tell you to put them!" He barked towards one of the captains of the militia groups, the one housing the largest numbers. "Get your unfocused soldiers under control." He almost said "slobs" but knew that wouldn't have helped endear him to the resistance fighters. For all Tyvek is, one thing he didn't have on Rex was his way with words and patience.

"How can I tell people who've inherited their land from their fathers and mothers to simply abandon them?" He woefully asks for a way to persuade them, he himself could not do it.

"Tell then if they don't leave their land then they'll be no farm land for your kids." Tyvek spoke coldly. Rejected, the mere farmer/soldier accepted his task.

"It will be done." He walked away shaking his head, wondering how in the universe will he convince so many to leave their homes.

Ahsoka was about to speak when Mykle walked through the door, joyously slapping the shoulders of those familiar faces he'd happen to walk past. "Tilden, I didn't think you were alive!" He joked, Tilden said the same to him. "It's good to see you all, it's good to be back." He stood proudly firm, well dressed and shaven.

"You're looking sharp." Ahsoka said tongue and cheek.

"It's been a while." He then went quiet and ceded the floor to Tyvek, not before notifying him he was in his service. "Ahsoka's told me a lot about you. I'm happy to have someone besides me commanding soldiers." He said truthfully. They shook hands, both having a firm grip, also hesitant to be the first to let go.

"Tano's told me a lot about you, as well. It's amazing we haven't crossed paths before." Tyvek says.

"You served in the Clone War?" Mykle's curiosity was teased.

"On and off service, mostly patrolled the near parts of the Outer Rim. Often did not see action." Tyvek confessed.

"So how's you cut your teeth?" Mykle challenges.

"Learned from the best Clone officers and Jedi leaders in the universe had to offer." Tyvek boosted. Mykle studied under the great Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice dubbed "The Hero With No Fear" and none of their magic rubbed off him, so he was skeptical but thought little of it.

"Well I look forward to working with you." Mykle smiles. Ahsoka got in the middle of them to refocus their attention.

"Alright, we've all gotten to know each other. Let's move on to more pressing matters."

"Right" the two men said simultaneously.

Battle plans proceeded to be drawn, it struck Mykle how poorly prepared the farmers really were, as it did Ahsoka and Tyvek. Learning that they didn't have enough guns to go around, so one militia man would be given the role as a "shadow" following one armed fellow around until he met his unfortunate end, then the shadow would promptly take up the fallen soldiers arms. They needed guns, however, there was no way to get it to them.

"My guess is this is why they've dug in?" Mykle says, studying the map. It updated on the hour, also featuring a detailed description of the ground the rebels gained or loss. Astonishingly, the farmers loss very little ground in their stinginess. This gave Mykle an idea, a rather unpleasant one, but it do.

"Tell them dig deeper and to dig behind them to ensure a quicker, cleaner retreat if necessary. If they need to retreat, make sure it's because they absolutely exhausted all other options. Then burn the battlefield, the hospitals, the crops everything to make sure the empire is left with nothing to replenish their coffers." This downright scared the two, Tyvek especially. Who was this guy? How dare he come down here upon gracious invitation and pretend he knows how to conduct a war - after having just ceded he himself could not in the past? They looked at him, jaws dropped, stupefied.

"I'm an ideas guy." Mykle owned his title, shrugging modestly, ending his brief brush with competency. "Plus by the looks at these blueprints you haven't designed a route for supplies to get through."

"I just yelled at a farmer to leave his land. It took so much time to drill it into their skulls and you think they'll plain accept a porcupine provision?" Tyvek honestly could not believe Ahsoka hadn't spoke against such nonsense before he had to. Mykle looked at Tyvek like a curious dog, tilting his head slightly. Tyvek hoped the jaded adult was only being coy.

"Discourage an unwanted takeover." He had to recite the dictionary description for the phrase he uttered, sighing noticeably hard.

"Oh, well, yes." Mykle says. "What else can we do besides get down and dirty? The only reason the imperials are here is because Thebeska's farmers are the universe's most productive and it's soil is the most rich. Why not take all the incentive of invasion away?" Mykle's logic was pretty sound, if not for one key detail being omitted.

"The empire is here for Bail Organa's daughter, not to convert the farmers into their personal grocery stores." Tyvek pushes back. Undaunted, Mykle pressed.

"There are more than one reason to send troops to the ground." He explained, quite patronizingly. "You need to open your mindl to a ulterior motive." At this point, Tyvek was ready to deck Mykle, clenching his fist to his side so hard that the color was drained from his skin.

Then, like a lightning bolt, what Tyvek said hit Mykle. "Wait... you haven't taken her off Thebeska!"

"Why do you think we're here?" Ahsoka pointed out. "Look, I don't think your plan can work. There's a couple of TIE Fighters causing us problems in the air, digging deeper trenches makes them sitting ducks." Mykle thought for a moment, and again the lightbulb went off. How he loved to partake in these military brainstorming sessions.

"Thebeska's railspeeders and have them duck underground if harassed by the air." The two had to admit that wasn't a bad plan, even if Mykle smirked in a smug manner purely to rub it in Ahsoka's he was never that dummy his peers perceived him to be. It was an act of pure petulance, but so far he wasn't unwarranted in his self-satisfaction.

"Okay, Briggs. You get your way. How about you carry it out?" Tyvek pushes, shattering Mykle's confident facade.

"What?!" He was flummoxed as to why someone he had just confessed to not being good at commanding would bestow such a position to.

"It's a small band, about six souls, perhaps more soon. Me and Ahsoka have a lot on our plates and could use the one less responsibility."

Ahsoka walked up to Mykle, who was trying to find a way to respectfully decline. He was humble, but had trouble saying no to anything prestigious on the spot if there was honor to be gained.

"You can do it." She told him like she was speaking to a Youngling from the temple who struggled with his or her commandment with the Force. "You aren't as bad as you say you are." She promised him. Mykle's expression relaxed and he accepted his role.

Within hours Mykle was driven to his post to meet the small band he was tasked to lead to victory. He was grateful to have his eyes spot a familiar face, CeCe sat calmly resting an ice pack on her left kneecap. He immediately asked her if she was alright before exchanging pleasantries. She assured him she was fine, "Is no more than a sprain." but he could she through her lying eyes. Meanwhile, she introduced him to her small platoon. Jennings and Chester sported long beards, truly gross in appearance. Dirt and crumbs littered their hair. Nonetheless, they welcomed Mykle with a gracious hug. Next to them were Francis and Pierce. Francis was the only other female besides CeCe in the group, though she had the strongest frame and was undoubtedly the cleanest of the bunch. Though her hands were covered in a crude oil. As for Pierce, relatively quite, the shortest of the six, he merely said "hi" made sure Mykle would not mistake his reserve for a lack of manners.

"You all seem well prepared." Mykle notes everyone is equipped with rifles, each of them held a sharp spike like a bayonet in case of having to execute charges. Such an outdated tactic. "We doing cavalry charges?" He sneered.

"Maybe we have to slit some throats!" Chester defended the use of his crude, uncivilized weapon. Mykle took a step back, making a mental note to not get on his bad side.

"So... what's our standing?" Mykle got around to asking.

"We took down a work camp and stole some old droids." CeCe said.

"What's the big deal about some droids?" Mykle asked.

"They're battle droids, Francis' been trying to get them up and running around." Francis waved.

"Amazingly the tech is out of date." She informed them. "The batteries are rusty and leaking acid."

"So replace the batteries." Mykle says simply.

"They don't make strong batteries anymore." She went on to say she's been trying to power the machines to just walk around and hold a blaster, at the very least they'd act as a brief shield for the shorthanded militia.

"We're getting ready to deliver guns and food to various lines, need a way to slip past the roaming imperials." CeCe refocused the conversation.

"Why not use the underground railspeeders?" Mykle proposes. "Although, you'll have to drag them across because the rails are in the middle of being switched off."

"'You'll'?" CeCe raised an eyebrow, Mykle promptly took a step back and said "we."

"C'mon let's get moving." Mykle knew they didn't have a moment to spare.

"Should we tell command?" Jennings asked innocently.

"You can't possibly be serious?" Mykle could not believe such negligence. "You never communicate your movements over transmission or you risk the imperials intercepting communications."

"Take it easy, Moe, he's just a boy." CeCe told him. Mykle forgot he still goes by that name when on the ground. It's amazing CeCe never let his actual name roll off her tongue.

Mykle's never taken public transportation while living on Thebeska. The infrastructure was in such poor shape. The walls leaked sludge and electrical sparks. He initially thought it take months to deconstruct the railspeeders, instead, it probably take them just a couple hours.

"When was the last time you took a railspeeders?" Mykle asked the group. They murmured answers all ranging relatively recently, but had no good words to say. All knew how poor transportation was, blaming the Fardi corporation for letting it rot.

"So it's the job of one rich man to maintain an entire planet?" Mykle defended Chief, which sparked a short and contentious debate on the responsibility of the societies richest people to help their fellow man.

Eventually, they reached the next front, popping through a man hole handing the leader of one unit supplies needed to keep the fight going. They made stop after stop after stop, finishing just before the sun rose to signify the start of the day for many. But for Mykle and Co. their day was just getting started, playing the role of delivery boys was just one of the errands that needed to run. It's fairly quiet, the only nose that can be heard through the thick concrete was the occasional blast courtesy of a TIE Fighter making the rounds.

"Damned Imperials." Jennings cursed. "They can never give us a moment."

"They're our enemies, they aren't supposed to." CeCe coldly explained. Jennings was about to speak when gunshots echoed throughout the hollowed tunnel. Luckily no one was hit. The squad scrambled to find any sort of cover, Mykle had to settle for merely laying stomach first on the ground and return fire. The darkness was the only protection from an accurate blast that surely would have killed him.

"Goodness! They're down here too!" Jennings grieved. "You animals!"

"Hey, J, less talking more shooting!" Chester demanded. The fighting intensified despite it being isolated, magazine after magazines emptied. The Stormtroopers were wise enough not to climb down in their visible white armor, opting for grey or black uniforms equipped with a smaller, but more mobile, vest to protect their torso from laser blasts. Mykle took down the first one, a shot to the neck made him collapse like a house of cards. The never ending sound of gunfire overtook his screams. The second Stormtrooper fell thanks to Jennings; CeCe nailed the rest.

"Is everyone okay?" She asked, her heart still racing. She patted herself down to make sure she was not hit. The band checked themselves finding no fatale wounds. Jennings, however, gained a flesh wound in his lower left foot, which was immediately tended too. CeCe ordered Chester to escort Jennings back to headquarters to receive more medical attention. Jennings declared he did not wish to retreat, saying he still had one good leg and intended to make good use of it.

Deciding to resurface, they linked up with a battalion of fighters dug deep into the trenches. Wherever they were, it was apparent it was of great importance to the empire. The air presence was its strongest, TIE Fighters, there was four of them, circled the resistance fights like vultures around a fresh carcass. Mykle seen many waste their precious ammunition on trying to take them down.

"What are you doing?!" He lowered one man's sights from targeting the ever roaming fighter. "Stay focused with those on the ground, you'll never hit them." Meaning the air fighters. Overhead, Low Altitude transport roared dropping land tanks which sunk the moral of the defensive troops to new lows.

"Look at those beasts!" One cried. It was best that they didn't. The roaming rocket launcher levitated off the ground humming madly, angling its sights on anyone it could target.

"Psych, gimme a grenade!" Chester identified one of the men for his school days. Psych obliged and Chester wasted no time winding his arm, the metallic ball clanked to the side and it's explosion left no affect on the tanks journey towards the trench.

"You'll have to get it inside the hole of the barrel." Mykle told him. How he wish he could help guide Chester's throw, but he hadn't used the Force in so long. Chester ordered for another grenade, Psych informed him that this was the last one in the arsenal. Before Chester got his arm ready, Mykle told him to hold steady. "Wait till it gets closer." He told him. After a dozen seconds Chester began to sweat.

"Now?" He asks with baited breath. Mykle shakes his head. Another dozen seconds pass "Now?!" He's on the verge of just chucking the explosive regardless. Even so, Mykle shook his head. Chester's eyes were ready to bulge out of his skull. After a couple more seconds, Mykle looked to Chester, grabbing his attention by getting a tight grip on his collar.

"Now!" He said, and Chester let it fly, the grenade rattled through the barrel, subsequently, Mykle told all those in the trench to get down, less they get hit with the shrapnel that's about to be let loose into the dirtied air. When the dust settled, the rebels let loose in bowls of approval, some slapping Chester on the backside.

"Good throw!" One said, gleefully smiling. Luckily that was the only tank the imperials currently had at their disposal, the tank was supposed to roll the fighters over so they could advance.

"They're stuck there!" Mykle explained that the empire's advance was halted. The action ceased, an abrupt standstill took place. The silence startled Mykle more than the constant barrage of blaster fire and cannons going off. It would be suicide to charge, the imperials had machine guns ready to mow them down. The farmers did not have such a weapon that became customary in the militaries throughout the more than a generation ago. When Mykle asked how did they manage to trap the imperials where they currently are, one said.

"We laid landmines, boobytraps and other means to hold them at bay. To walk through No Man's Land is to walk through Hell." Mykle never heard such a cold, brutal tactic utilized in the Clone War, but that was fought by two sides who did not express much agency.

"What about the TIE Fighters?" Mykle was hoping for a reassuring answer, something along the lines of "We have a plan!" only to see the rebels did not. Just lay face first in the trench and hope they miss. Mykle prayed the leadership did not know all they needed to win control of Thebeska was a couple dozen TIE Fighters.


	17. Chapter 17

When discussing the offensives on Thebeska to his underlings, Trott was violent, casually threatening them. When asking his superiors for favors, such as Tarkin, Trott's tone was almost begging. Turning himself to a beta in order to massage the egos of those he wished to not get on their bad side.

"I thought I could trust you to crush the insurgency?" Tarkin hissed, annoyed. He wanted to be the one to deliver Organa's daughter back to the Senator.

"Sir, it is difficult to perform more than one task in the time you're asking them to be accomplished." Trott meekly explained. Tarkin wasn't convinced, his expression urged Trott to explain himself. "I cannot subjugate these people AND get their compliance to hand over their leverage."

"That is why Thebeska has representation to intimidate." Tarkin said.

"We killed them all, sir." The commander nonchalantly told him.

"How did you do that?!" Tarkin grew irritated, not realizing it was in fact him who ordered such a measure. Trott did not dare to bring it up.

"All I need is eight TIE Fighters and Thebeska will be yours. Their farms will replenish our supply lines and prepare us for an attack on neighboring Mandalore."

Tarkin was curt, telling Trott the imperial aerial fighters were tied up in multiple theaters across the galaxy, he could not pull transfer any of them.

"But I trust that will not be an issue?" Tarkin asked.

"No, sir." Trott sighed, defeated. "Thebeska will be dealt with."

"See to it that it is, do not waste more time or my resources." The transmission finally ended, Trott let loose a string of curses that reverberated throughout the Star Destroyer.

"We've been here for two months and haven't gotten ANY help from the higher ups! How am I supposed to win the war?" Trott wasn't asking anyone, he was just ranting, his hair was on fire.


	18. Chapter 18

Years attending the premier trade school on Thebeska lead to this: programming droids to walk three or four steps before crumbling like a house of cards made by a four-year-old. Francis was at her wits end, pulling her blonde hair from its roots.

"I'm so sick of this!" She howled, kicking the scrap metal. "The CIS were a bunch of dimwitted rats!" She cursed the Geonosian bugs who initially built the Separatist army. Pierce watched, searching for words of encouragement to keep her from giving up. What left his mouth wasn't "Don't stop" or "You can do it!" it was more along the lines of if you quit then we all die. Quietly, Francis resumed her work.

The band return to their headquarters. Pierce wasted no time tending to Jennings wound, which worsened, its gash deepened, upon first glance it appeared infected. Pierce didn't speak though, he didn't have the heart to tell Jennings of his predicament.

"How was it?" Francis asked. Mykle plopped on the cold, damp ground, his vest left in dusty tatters. No one spoke, so Francis turned to Mykle. "Moe?" She picked on him like a teacher would a student not raising his or her hand to answer a question.

"The fact the wars gone on this long is a testament to this planet's people." Mykle started off, before laying it on thick. "But you're not going to win unless you get some damned fighters in the air! Doesn't Thebeska have an air hanger?"

"The empire took it over the first day they showed up a couple of years ago." CeCe told him. "Maybe if you weren't living under a rock you'd know that." Mykle was about to address that snide remark when Chester intervened.

"He's right though. We need fighters, otherwise we're going to spend another year hiding under mud and leaves." They thought for a moment, Mykle remembered as a child on Lianos his parents used to take him to the air museums where they'd have these glorious machines of their day hanging up for display.

"Does Thebeska have an air museum?" Like a lightning bolt he shot straight up. Francis and CeCe exchanged an uneasy look.

"Yah, actually. It's a few kilometers from here." Chester said. "I went there once on a field trip. Why?"

"I think I know where we can get fighters." Mykle's fingers snapped.

"Moe, you can't be serious." Francis laughed. "Those Fighters are ancient, they can't possibly contend with the advancements of the TIE Fighter."

"What if we don't need them too?" Mykle smirked as he felt the collective brain juices flow.

"What?!" CeCe thought he wasn't making any sense.

"What if all we need is for them to fly Jare style."

"Jare?" Chester didn't know what that word meant.

"Yeah, Jare, Mandalorian for suicide. Francis can use these battle droids to fly the fighters into the TIEs and take them out. There's only six of them roaming about Thebeska." Mykle's plan wasn't bad, per say, but it was lacking in one crucial detail.

"You're forgetting that these droids don't work without an Acid Battery." Francis held the head of a severed droid to show its poor quality.

"What about lithium?" Mykle asked.

"Lithium?"

"Yah, lithium. Haven't you guys learned about alternative sources of energy in school?" There was a hush.

"I was homeschooled." Chester answered.

"Well your social skills are great." Mykle held his thumbs up. "Anyways, it's worth a shot right?"

"Lithium?" Ahsoka hadn't heard that word since she was a Youngling. "That's used for lightweight batteries, they won't be strong enough to support battle droids."

"We only need those tin cans running for 10-minutes, Francis can pilot them via remote control and take care of the rest." Mykle explained.

"And by 'the rest' you mean?" Tyvek and Ahsoka inquired.

"Crash into the TIEs jare-style." Mykle says, earning a bemused expression in return. "Mandalorian for suicide." Must he explain the term to all he says it to? "I'm going to need a couple of vehicles to transport the fighters here so they can be conditioned." Ahsoka thought for a moment. It's a fairly dumb plan, she had to say. But something about it, it's blunt simplicity gave her cause for optimism.

"Okay, I'll meet you at the museum."

Things moved awfully fast after that, Mykle didn't have to wait very long until Ahsoka met him. They stood for a time, looking for a way to gain entry.

"It's a palm-print" she groans. "maybe we can forge the guard's print?" Ahsoka pondered. Mykle casually bent down to pick up a nearby rock and smashed the window, then did so a couple more times. "What are you doing?!" Ahsoka grabbed his hand before he could make more noise.

"I'm trying to give you a place to slide through." He gestured to her slender, yet toned frame, giving her a wolffish smile, adding a whistle. "Years have been kind to you." She didn't know if he was kidding or were these his actual attempts to advance on her.

"You don't talk to many women do you?" She remarks coldly, but with a smile.

"Blame the Jedi for that." There was a laugh that escaped both of them, she never laughs at Mykle's jokes.

It was dark, the switches did not work as they haven't been functioning for quiet some time. After bumping into a desk and a few other objects, the clumsy Mykle had his fill.

"To heck with this!" He ignited Ahsoka's green lightsaber, which he still had. Ahsoka told him to put the weapon away, Mykle told her not to worry. "The imperials don't come here anyway."

"Why you say that?" Ahsoka didn't believe him, the imperials patrol every inch of planet they're on. It's what they're most known for - besides the brutality.

"Why would they come to a decrepit, dull museum?"

"Maybe because of people like us trying to accomplish what we are right now?" She points out.

"Shut up!" Mykle wanted to say, but settled for an icy stare and a hiss pretending to convey contempt. "Hey, I'm going to cut these down, I need you to gently lay them on the ground." Ahsoka nodded. "I'll open the garage."

"Why can't you do it?"

"I shut myself off from the Force." He says. Ahsoka didn't think he was serious, but he was. The powers the universe gifted him with was washed away. "Right after Order 66." He explains.

"Why?" She was breathless in her tone.

"I wanted to go home." Mykle simply put it. "I was tired of ignoring my family for those who didn't care and just wanted to wipe my hands of all things connected to my time with the Jedi."

"So then why did you decide to help us."

"I..." He thought for a second, unable to find a clever quip to circumvent the uneasiness he was feeling just touching upon this subject.

"Did you ever believe in the Jedi?" Ahsoka asked. Mykle looked at her like he had just seen a ghost.

"You ask me that?" He was almost offended. "The all-seeing eyes who could not see they've been played for fools and turned on their own?" He referred to Offee's framing of her friend for the bombing of the Republic hanger bay a couple months before the infamous order of Operation Knightfall. "Do I still believe in that?"

Ahsoka didn't have a response, now she was noticeably tongue-tied. "I didn't know you took it that hard."

"Well I did!" His calm facade again dissolved, before resetting. "I left the Jedi to find the puppet master behind everything. The war. The resurrection of the Sith, and the mole I KNEW was inside the Republic causing their downfall. I failed. But so did those who had more at their disposal." Ahsoka didn't know what to say to that, even after all the Jedi put her through, even though they offered no assistance in clearing her name, she still had respect for the Jedi and their ways. Mykle just had contempt. Infected by the Dark Side of the Force, perhaps she had always known this, but elected to turn the opposite direction. Credit was due, however, Mykle seemed to have known this and instead of sulking and treating the subtle fall as inevitable, he cut the string.

The final fighter was gently placed outside, CeCe showed up, as did Chester, Pierce and with their respective vehicles to carry them on their flatbeds. A large tarp placed over them was supposed to conceal their appearance, even though their shape was very distinguishable.

"Uh, guys" Francis called through the transmitter "someone answer." Her voice sounded urgent.

"What?" Mykle answered, picking up the communicator from the desk it was placed on. "What's wrong?"

"Put Ahsoka on." Taken aback, Mykle rolled his eyes before handing the transmitter over.

"I need you back now. The Empire's found where Organa's daughter is hiding."


	19. Chapter 19

"Why haven't you gotten her off of the planet?!" Mykle and Tyvek cornered Fardi, who was sweating profusely and on the verge of his legs giving out. He sat down, his chest heaving noticeably. "What were you doing all this time?"

"The imperials are breathing down my neck, burning down my factories, forcing my workers into service and are threatening my children on a daily-basis. I can't afford to take a big swing!" He raises his voice, which only makes him feel sicker. At that point it dawned on Tyvek that Chief wasn't sure about handing Leia over to Organa.

"You're going to let the empire hand her over?" Tyvek asked, when Fardi didn't answer it only heightened his concern. Mykle intervened. He wasn't much of a policy maker, or the intimidator Tyvek was, but he could appeal to Chief's sensibilities far better.

"What-if they don't give her to Bail, ever thought of that Chief? What-if they keep her for ransom to get Bail out of their way?" Fardi was silent, running the words just said to him in his mind on repeat. "You're letting them push you around, Chief, and there will be no reward for capitulating to their whim."

"But I have a family." Fardi meekly retorted.

"I got bad news for you: the empire isn't in the business of making new friends. Once they have no further use of you they'll kill you and your family." Mykle grew more forceful in his tone, leaning over the desk to get right into Fardi's face. "You're in far too deep with us to turn back. It isn't just you, it's me, this fella over here - whatever his name is. Like it or not, we're your only friends. We're the only people who can protect your family."

Fardi opened up the door by his left hand, pulling out a case of scotch and two cups. It was dark brown, almost a mud color. Chief poured himself a shot and took a big swig, then offered the two boys a chance at it only to be rebuffed. Fardi took down the second glass with ease.

"Alright," He begins "Organa is in Peaks. The empire is mobilizing to find her and do... whatever. Go there, pick her up and let's just get her off this damn planet."

"What about the pilot?" Mykle remembered their conversation before.

"Everyone I've tried to enlist ends up shot. Even the smugglers I didn't ask, but have a history working with bit the dust."

"You're losing friends fast." Tyvek pointed out.

"You still got us." Mykle assures Chief.

"Whatever that's worth." He says dryly.


	20. Chapter 20

The news came down like a bolt from the blue. Trott was as happy as can be, certainly his happiest since this siege began. Chasing after Organa's daughter was compared, by Trott, to a starving prisoner who's gone without sunlight for ages thrown a measly cold potato. Nourishment, satisfaction, Trott could taste all these things. All he needed to do was take a bite.

"Sir, May I ask, what do you plan to do with the Organa child once she's in our possession." One officer asked. For once, a subordinate asked a good question. Trott assumes the empire would just hand her over. After all, this was mostly a public relations stunt. But did the emperor have a greater plan in place?

"Regardless, we're not there yet. Let us take down the rebels fortification inside Peaks and leave this backwater planet, only to return to subjugate their people." Then, they won't have to play so nice.

"How much time do we have?" Mykle asked Tyvek, who was just finished a transmission with an official of Peaks. Meanwhile, Mykle was taken aback at how massive the city was, not resembling anything he's come to see on Thebeska. There are bridges, railspeeders that are placed outdoors and even sea ports.

"Not now!" Tyvek pushes Mykle aside. Another transmission was coming in, who knows whom it could be. Not too keen on surprises, Tyvek hesitantly answered. It was none other than opposing commander Trott.

"Why, hello." He said as if greeting his next door neighbor. "I assume you're the one leading this valiant effort to defend Thebeska's honor. Are you a citizen of this lovely planet?" Tyvek scrunched his face. He knew Trott's appearance, so he did not suspect this was a prank. But the motives as to why Trott was reaching out remained unclear.

"What do you want?" He cut to the chase, like Mykle he wasn't one to mince words.

"I came to offer you and your team a way out of your predicament. Because I'm so merciful, even as I tracked your little resistance down I am willing to let you off easy if you hand over Bail Organa's offspring."

"Define 'go easy on'."

"Perhaps I won't treat Peaks the same as I did the other provinces on Thebeska." There wasn't a cocky smirk, which Tyvek expected, instead it was a cold, serious in its nature. "You've shown you can do just about the same amount of damage as my team could."

"Desperate times, commander." Tyvek said simply. "But I don't think we're ready to give up yet. You're underestimating what you're up against."

"On the contraire, I know what I am facing. I just thought I'd do the common courtesy or giving you a chance to peacefully submit." Tyvek was about to respond when the transmission cut off. A brief moment where he lost his nerve ensued.

"You know he's right." Mykle pointed out. "We can't win. We can push them back for ages and they'll break through if one of us has a bad day." Tyvek scowled at his lack of faith.

"Tano tells me you were more optimistic when fighting in the Clone Wars." He says dismissively.

"That was when the opposing army was made up predictable scrap metal." He retorts. "You and I both know that isn't the imperials."

"Are you sure? How would you know, from your time living under various rocks!" Tyvek grew irate, ordering Mykle to leave the room to let him collect his thoughts. However, Mykle didn't budge.

"Who the Hell are you?!" He'd shoot back. "I don't remember you being the one to come up with these ideas that bought us a couple of days. That's was me! You'd be dead if it wasn't for me."

"So would you." Tyvek calmed slightly, reverting back to his icy tone.

"Oh, I don't think so." Mykle didn't give Tyvek a chance to respond, as he left the war room. How he wished the sliding door was a manual one so he could slam it on its hinges to show his violent displeasure. It was then Mykle noticed how wry he had grown in the last couple of sleepless days. His stomach was empty, growling incessantly.

Turning a corner he happened to run into Ahsoka who also looked ready to take a respite. Even on her dark orange skin Mykle could make out the black bags under her eyes.

"I need to talk to you." He tells her to come with him into one dining hall, which was completely deserted. Any food laying around was covered in flies and formed mold. "I'm hungry and thirsty, so forgive me if I sound angry." He warns her in an attempt to lighten the mood, like always, she remained stone-faced, her lips didn't even curl indicating she found him mildly amusing.

"What's the news outside?" He changes the subject.

"They're tired, but their spirits are still up after some successes on previous fronts." Ahsoka put bluntly. "I had no idea CeCe was such a capable leader."

"Yah, me neither." He shrugged, getting antsy. "Listen, we're not going to win" He told her. "unless you use the Force." The request took the stoic Tano away. How could Mykle ask her to out herself so easy?

"You know I can't do that." She yearned to be in the thick of things like the old days. The twisting knot in her stomach when discussing battle plans knowing she couldn't lead the rebellion in the field.

"C'mon, Ahsoka!" He now lost his nerve. "This isn't you." When his abrasive tone did little to shake her, he stormed out like he did with Tyvek a couple minutes ago. It's a vicious circle Mykle willingly threw himself too. He had allowed himself to care again.

Like clockwork, the sound of beeping rang past his ears. Someone was trying to get Ahsoka's attention, she answered her com-link not knowing Mykle was there eavesdropping. The rebels have caught an imperial spy within their ranks, they are holding him captive a floor below in the basement. Ahsoka left and Mykle followed, she didn't have it in her to divert him away.

"A spy?" Mykle didn't even know how Trott could have snuck one in so fast.

"They got him before he could have found anything out. I'm going to meet Tyvek to help interrogate him." She says.

"Good cop, bad cop?" He asks, she nods. "Who do you play?" He of course was being rhetorical, assuming she had a mean streak to her. "Remember when you nearly decapitated a man because he sold your lightsaber?"

"Quiet" She hissed, preferring not to remember a time her brashness cost her.

"Oh my god, you're the Good Cop?!" The Idea was enough to make him burst into a fit of laughter reminiscent of a child. "I got to see this."

"You're not going in there." He thought she was kidding. Of course he was going to aide in the interrogation. What he lacked in intimidation, he made up for in memory and presenting a way for the struggling to appear to have wiggled out of their predicament, but into a trap.

"You didn't join because you hate the Empire, you only sided with us because you felt worthless! You act like you have all the answers, but you don't."

"Leave this to the professionals." The patronizing tone was noticeable, Ahsoka didn't want to attempt to hide it. Fed up, again, disregarded from his peers, Mykle stormed off again this time his anger seething to the point all he could see was targets for him to punch. He had enjoyed being on autopilot these last couple of days, now the machine had overheated and gave way to an uncontrollable, emotional wreak. His frustration morphed into tears, hadn't even knowing why.

Walking outside, not even bothering to wipe the water dribbling down his cheeks, looking down he saw Ahsoka's old lightsaber still dangling from his belt. There was no point to pretending to be someone he was no longer. If Mykle were to gaze upon his reflection a Jedi would stare back, only a shell of the promise he once held. Unclipping the Jedi weapon from his hip, without even taking one last look threw it into the narrow river. There wasn't a splash, just a thud.

CeCe walked to him, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder. Flinching, Mykle hastily tried to cover himself only to do a poor job. But she didn't ask if he was alright. That she already knew he wasn't.

"They're starving" She says, referring to the men and women. If only hunger was the only problem. The lack of ammunition and hygiene also was prominent. "We need to bring in supplies and fast. I found a small town that isn't heavily occupied by the Imperials."

"Oh?" Mykle snorted, still cleaning his face of the tears. "How we getting there?" He spoke in stutters. CeCe points to the sea.

"I know it's mainly used for tourists, but they'll never expect someone to sneak in this way. We can utilize the calm waters to scurry in and out."

Mykle shrugged and followed her to the sea port. They were to leave at night, aided by the fog no one could possibly see them. CeCe did not turn on the light for fear of giving away position. The boat was old, rickety and a comical throwback to a simpler time generations ago. Mykle and CeCe took turns rowing the near abnormally sized motor vehicle. The motor made far too much noise - according to CeCe, so they had to move manually. Mykle's arms were beginning to feel hard as his motions got tenser. Mercifully they landed, not having time rest they scurried under the moonlight.

"Like our bootlegging days." CeCe quipped, getting a modest chuckle out of Mykle. Right after the fall of the Jedi, in need of money, Mykle bootlegged liquor for a time for various dry planets. This is back when he still had the Force to "dissuade" anyone who tried to stop him.

"Is it wrong that I miss those days more?" He asked, drawing a quizzical response from CeCe in the form of a facial expression. "Everything seemed simpler."

"Only because you thought it that way. It wasn't so simple for most people." She threw cold water on Mykle's nostalgic lust. Ironically, the adventure he craved so much as a child was satisfied not during his Jedi years, but when on the run.

"I never felt so independent and efficient." He knew what he was saying was wrong. He just didn't care. Dropping the last crate into the boat, CeCe thought it good to use the motor when far enough from shore. 'Till then, they would row. "I miss the good old days."

"Do you even know when those were?" Truth be told, Mykle did not. Whatever good memory that crept into his mind he'd associate as the "good old days." It was a habit he could not, and would not break. Anything to pretend his life wasn't filled with monotonous frustration, couple with the occasional gut-wrenching misery of losing those closest.

"I just wish I could live inside my dreams and never come out." He confessed, letting his emotions and inner thoughts be flushed out into the open without a care of what CeCe might think. It didn't matter to him, he was sure nothing really did.

"We can't control everything. I'm truly sorry for what you've gone through. No one deserves such a fate." Those words made Mykle burst in tears again. Though he was quiet and hit his face in his arms, reminiscent to how a child would tear up. The facade completely repelled, leaving a vulnerable, emotionally adolescent 22-year-old Mykle to pick up the pieces. CeCe seen the inadvertent causes this was by the Jedi and their emotional suppression doctrine. To have it drilled in your psyche daily that any hint of emotion leads you to the path of slaughtering innocents is torturous in of itself. No longer wishing to speak, he propped his back against the wall taking in the sounds of the waves and the soothing calm of the sail as his eyelids grew heavier by the second until he fell asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

"Remember your lines?" Ahsoka nods. "Good because it's very important." The Imperial mole looked pitiful as he squirmed confines to his chair. A gag was placed in his mouth because he wouldn't stop howling for assistance.

"Who's going to hear you?" One of the rebels gloats. Simultaneously, another rebel waned to give the spy water. Even through his big bubble red eyes and streaked, scared skin not everyone expressed the same kind of contempt to the hostile enemy. "Put that down!" The rebel told his fellow solider.

"He can't talk with a dry tongue, you try it."

Ahsoka walked in, immediately told the two rebels to leave them alone. When they were gone she released the gag. The spy began to scream once again, piercing her montrals. Pathetic shrieks of "help help help" bounced off the walls. Ahsoka has two options: needlessly try to shush him to assure no harm will come his way... or

"Okay, we're not doing that." She shoved the gag back into mouth. His teeth biting down so hard she feared his sharp teeth might rip the fabric. "You'll be fine if you just cooperate." The spy muffles his response, growling almost.

"So... that's a no?" The spy sighed, finally sitting still. He shook his head. "You're going to calm down?" He nods and is once again freed from the gag. He coughs and spits.

"Your friends put dampen the rag in sewage water?" He grimaces, still tasting whatever it was on his tongue.

"You've put yourself in this situation" A cold blunt statement the way to start these interrogations, she thought. They weren't meant to begin in a hostile manner. "If you help us we can assure no physical harm will come your way."

"The only harm done to me will be when the Empire gets their hands on me after this."

"Whether you talk or not?" She asks. He nods.

"Ah, they don't trust anyone. So I might as well be dead." He is silent for a moment, then chuckles. "They're coming." He starts off. Ahsoka was pleasantly surprise their was no cajoling needed. "They know where your princess is, they have the know-how to navigate this terrain and once they have her they'll burn your town to the ground." These threats, Ahsoka's heard them all before. So much it was almost alarming to her how apathetic she's come to those words.

"Nothing I've ever heard. What did you tell them?"

"That you're outgunned, that's all. I was about to tell them about that little river. I hope your kind are good swimmers." Ahsoka chose to ignore that mildly racist comment and let the spy continue uninterrupted.

"That's all I've given them. I only been here for a couple of days." Sensing he was telling the truth, Ahsoka obliged.

"Do you have a way for us to reach them?" The spy shakes his head. Disgruntled, she settles for the oldest Jedi trick, waiving her hand in front of the spy's face repeating the question. His gaze went away from her and to the wall as if staring at a far distance. He tells her about the com-link in his backpack, behind the door. She then told him to say _"The rebels are outgunned and low on moral._ They are ready to quit." Which he repeated at verbatim. "Thank you." She says cutely, then leaves.

"Turns out I didn't need you." She tells Tyvek proudly.

"Yes, I heard. So what's the plan?"

"Mislead the Empire. Then lay the battlefield with traps so stunt their offensive." It all sounded simple enough.

A couple hours later Mykle and CeCe landed and brought out the rations, which galvanized and reenergized the resistance fighters. Their thin stomachs began to fill out once again and their strength returning. For once Mykle felt self gratification when those happy faces, who haven't had a wash in days show a bright smile.

"Don't hog! Everyone share, don't eat so much!" Mykle took control and went as far to rip an extra bag of rations away from someone who already had one.

CeCe walked over to Tyvek who was already in a panic in the prelude to the battle.

"How long do until they show up?"

"Three hours." The doom in his voice was easy to spot.

"I'll get everyone in position."

"Don't forget the right flank." Tyvek reminds as CeCe departs.

Some of the men and women grumbled that they weren't being fed enough. Blaming CeCe for the lack of more rations. Mykle protested that if it wasn't for CeCe they wouldn't have eaten anything at all. "Hey, you want to take your chances on the other side then be my guest!" He opens the metaphorical door. The ramblings cease. CeCe walked up about to address the crowd of huddled soldiers. Then the sounds of the ground being stomped echoed, after a couple seconds it come up again. And again. And again. They didn't have three hours. Above Trott was watching already confident in his coming success.

"Extend the lines!" Ahsoka, usually stoic, let her inner-Anakin show in her angst. Imperial speed bikes racing towards the them, batons withdrawn ready to swing. The string caught the slit between their chest armor and helmet, if they were to go any faster the thread would have cut their heads clean off. The bikers toppled over one another, Ahsoka wanted to seize the moment. "Help me lay down these traps." She looked to Mykle. Looking to his right seeing multiple triangular plates in the sack of one rebel.

"Imma need this." Mykle said before ripping the sack from the rebel's shoulder. "Yo, A.T, help out!" He called to her, tossing her a landmine. "You too, pipsqueak." He looked down at the little rebel.

"Are you mental!" Someone says. "He's a child!" Mykle looks sheepishly back at the child, before getting defensive. "Well why is he holding landmines?!" He doesn't wait for an answer and rushes to the field.

"Mykle" Ahsoka calls to him via com-link. "I just want to-"

"Save it" he cuts her off. "You said what you meant."

Next game the second wave of bikers, when they managed to cut the string the row of landmines detonated destroying their vehicles and themselves. The an AT-AT Walker met its premature end at the hands of one of the remaining landmines. The battlefield in less than an hour was lit in a brilliant fire, it smells of burnt grass and wood. A shot hadn't been fired and already the casualties were mounting.

The air became filled with the sound of machine gun fire, aiming for the tall buildings anticipating snipers. When the found out there weren't any - on the account of there's no returning fire - they saw deep trenches were dug and "No Man's Land" was almost impossible to perform a charge on.

"These damn rebels don't know when to quit!" Trott watched, clenching his fist so tight the blood circulation was cut. "Dig in!" He ordered his men. The charge was a failure. Complete, utter failure. Another standstill battle. Any hopes of a quick, decisive victory was put on the back burner.

There were gunners nest placed across the opposite side of the battlefield, it's barrels pointed squarely at the town. Ahsoka looked over the trench, then at Mykle.

"Go up to the bell tower and take those gunners out." Mykle nodded, asking for a sniper rifle, going around pestering until someone gave it him. "The best shot in the galaxy" lived up to his billing, taking out two gunners the first minute he placed himself in the bell tower. When he did miss, the shots that came his way bounced off the gigantic bell, it's subsequent ringing had to have rupture an ear drum.

"Focus. Focus. Focus." He repeats, closing his eyes reaching down to the deepest crevices of his soul to find any bit of his connection to the Force that had not been severed. Blocking out the noise. Utilizing the briefest moments of calm, the subsequent shots fired from his gun hit their target. The Imperials dropped like deadwood. One brought a rocket launcher, slung it over his shoulders and shot off a blast zeroed in on the building Mykle resides in. Luckily, it hit the building nearby, its impact lead to a hole developing into the bell tower.

"Get out of there!" CeCe told Mykle, who previously had no intentions of leaving his post. Another shot was dead on to where he was standing, jumping from the bell tower to a rooftop below, hearing a pop in his ankle in the process. The adrenaline kept his mind from registering what he had just done to himself, limping down the fire escape amidst a constant barrage of gun fire.

Then came the TIE Fighters. Mykle called for Francis to release their own air attack, but the droids proved incapable of piloting. "Who here can fly?" Francis announced to the crowd of men eagerly awaiting marching orders. Four raised their hands.

"These relics can't even fire a torpedo shot." Tyvek explained this was a waste of time. Mykle chimes in, suggesting over the com-link they should simply drop grenades from the cockpit.

"Are they double-seated?" Mykle asks. Francis said they were. "Have the co-pilot shoot and protect the rear." Tyvek said there are only four people who know how to fly. Mykle, at the end of his fuse, yelled that it didn't matter.

The bell tower finally collapsed, releasing the fiery ash covering a good portion of the town in its light brown cloud. Now was the time to strike, the Imperials pounced on the rebels like a panther on a wounded animal below its rank in the food chain. The few fighters the rebels could catapult into the air acted as the guardian angels to their retreating allies. Mykle still had a good view of the battlefield, the grey armored men ran so fast. Taking out his sniper he shot a couple down before they returned fire. He took refuge in one of the rooms, wondering why he couldn't ran faster then gazing down at his stump of a right leg. It began to bleed. Shards of blasted metal must've flew through the air, piercing his skin in the process. To make matters worse, the Imperials crossed into the town aggressively searching building after building, not afraid to shoot whomever, regardless if they surrendered or not.

One Imperial held two rebels at gunpoint, they weren't nearly as strong as the fellow who held their lives in his hands. The Imperial demanded surrender, they refused. Mykle came up from behind, smacking the man in the back the head with the barrel of his sniper. He'd usually just shoot, but he needed to conserve ammunition. Mykle then fell, the peeling walls supporting his weight.

"You've been hit!" One the rebels shrieked, unwrapping his right pant leg. Mykle quipped the boy was very observant. The room spun around him, blood trickled down to the floor. So much he wondered if it seep through to the next floor below. A fire inside Mykle refused to succumb to his wounds. His heart racing, he propped himself back on his two feet and lead the two boys out of the building, reuniting them with their contingent.

CeCe saw this and immediately rushed to his side, slaw-jawed at how damaged his leg was. "You need to sit!" She called for the medical droid, not knowing it been caught in the crossfire moments before.

"You!" He points to someone - who had to be the medical droids assistant, holding a clear brown bottle. "What's in there?" He asked, referring to bottle if he wasn't clear enough. The boy said "Painkillers, sir!" Mykle grabbed them from his tiny hands and proceeded to gobble them down like candy.

"You can't take so many at once!" CeCe wanted to slap the idiot.

"It doesn't matter, I'm dying anyway by the way this battle is going." He gets up, starts to disinfect the wound and bandage it up with his shirt sleeve. His leg went numb, but the bleeding stopped. His cloudy eyes peered upwards, in his blur he made out a fighter taking down a TIE. "Who's that?" He asked CeCe.

"Judging by the expertise... I think that's Ahsoka." Mykle smiles. He knew she wouldn't settle for being behind the scenes.

"Can Tyvek fly?"

"I do not know, but he's on the ground."

"Take me to him."

"Can you fly?" Tyvek nods. "I think we should take to the air. The ground is caving in." Of course Mykle meant this metaphorically. Their strength was being peeled off. It be wise for them to leave the ground and pick off the empire's small air support.

"Look at these rust buckets!" Tyvek put his foot down "these things can barley handle the weight of us both. Plus you're bleeding!"

"If it's safe enough for a Jedi, it's safe for us!"

"There's a Jedi fighting with us? Is he here now?" One rebel soldier asked.

"First off, the He is a She, second... shut up!"

Tyvek reluctantly obliged, he would not stop saying how bad of an idea this was and legitimately feared Mykle's bloodless would result in him blacking out. Quite possibly the loss of blood lead to a lightness in his head and severe dizziness.

"You sure you're up for this?"

"Sure" Mykle breathes "course I am" the canopy came down, Mykle started to get the sense of just how ancient this star fighter is. Once in the air Tyvek commented on the fighters "sluggishness," unable to respond to the hard turns.

"Garbage" Tyvek would mutter, not afraid if Mykle would hear him curse his name too. They couldn't even communicate with their fellow airmen it was so ancient. "I think some dust is making its way down my throat." He complains, coughing harshly. Mykle was shaking his head to keep himself from going unconscious.

Once in the air, and Tyvek got the hang of flying the machine - neither him nor Francis knew what model the ancient piece of weaponry was called - he looked behind Mykle to make sure he hadn't fallen unconscious, luckily he was wide-eyed.

"What do we do now?" He asks.

"Open the canopy." The request made Tyvek gasp.

"Now I know you're crazy!" He raves "We'll-"

"Just do it." Mykle loaded his pistol. "Got the charges?" He read how thousands of years ago, when flight was relatively new aerial fighters took potshots whilst in the air against others. It was such a primitive time. Mykle and Tyvek wondered if that was the fighter they were in right now. "Get me in position!" Through his dizzy, now drowsy state, Mykle still exhibited pinpoint accuracy. Dropping a charge squarely on the top of a TIE Fighter, it's electric release nearly shocked the fragile control system to their own fighter.

"Good drop!" Tyvek complimented. Surveying the sky, Mykle judges there are four TIEs left. "I see four." Tyvek says, giving Mykle more confidence in his estimate. Soon their numbers dwindled to two. A shot to their fuel filter lead to the cockpit smelling of crude oil, letting them know it's leaking. Immediately they had to set the bird down before it imploded with them inside.

"Get everything you can, but quick!" Tyvek said, making sure he secured his blaster and various other materials to go with his war kit. They turn around to see Imperial soldiers pointing rifles aimed for their respective craniums. They both expected to be shot right there, only to hear the order to handcuff them.

"Inform Admiral Trott we've apprehended the leader of the resistance. And tell him we've captured the most notorious bootlegger in the galaxy." Mykle didn't even remember the last time he committed a crime against Thebeska's prohibition laws. He was certain he did, just so much had happened it was almost completely out of his metaphorical memory banks.

"Go quietly. There's too many." Tyvek whispers.

"That's it!? I thought you'd have a plan?"

"Well I don't."


	22. Chapter 22

CeCe got word of the Imperials advancing. Oh, why didn't she tell Ahsoka and the others to stay on the ground and assist that way? Because she truly thought the tides of the battle could've swung back in their favor if the sky was clear. Instead, it almost didn't affect the Imperials. Luckily, the Imperials took prisoners as opposed to senselessly gunning down their defenseless, conceding foes. Maybe it was no too late to make a last ditch escape, rushing towards the underground bunker she prayed no one who knew squealed. Not even Tyvek knew where Leia was. Opening the doors she found the child clutching tightly to her stuffed brown bear, it's fake fur slightly damp from her eyes resting on the fabric. CeCe slowly approached her, cradling her little body whispering into her ear empty promises that all will be alright.

"I promise." She lied. "Come on, we have to leave." To where CeCe did not know. How they'd get there, well that's a bigger question. The obvious means of transportation was via boat. Given the Imperials searching the town with a fine tooth comb that was out of the question. The reason they didn't do it prior was their presence ever increased in multiple areas, it be impossible to navigate anywhere without running into a white, brown or grey armored soldier for more than a couple of minutes. Thankfully there were no other children in the town, but that just made it easier to spot the tiny child in the open.

They held each other. CeCe seen the features on Leia's face similar to hers when she was her age. The Separatists once came to her home world. CeCe was older than Leia. Old enough to fight. Doesn't mean CeCe didn't want to cry in a corner then... honestly, she wanted to right now. But she had to put on a show for the little girl. She convinced herself they'd get out of this, that the Imperials wouldn't get their slimy claws on her.


	23. Chapter 23

Surprisingly, not only did the Imperials not shoot Tyvek and Mykle. They instead brought them in, boarding the nearest transport ship. Tyvek managed to eavesdrop and hear of them being taken to a Star Destroy hovering above Thebeska for interrogation. From then on it was a crapshoot. Either the Empire would kill them aboard the Destroyer or simply take them to prison for a life of torture.

"Why didn't they shoot us?" Mykle asked. They were cuffed, hands confined behind their back and blinded. Guessing Tyvek was right next to him, he spoke.

"No clue. Guess they think we know something." That was their cue to remain silent. They didn't want to give the Empire the idea they were dumb and therefore of no use; they also wanted to live and feign a willingness to comply. It was the thinnest of ropes to walk on. Almost, as if, there was no rope at all. An immediate plunge to their deaths was inevitable.

"I asked for the leader of the resistance and ONLY the leader. Not the "famous" bootlegger!" Trott wanted Mykle escorted off of the ship. Fired out into space was the first idea that came to mind.

"Whoa, whoa!" Mykle thought fast. "I'm not loyal to this scum on the left of me." Tyvek was on the right side of Mykle. "I can give you all the information you need."

"You coward!" If he wasn't bounded by constraints he'd strangle the life out of Mykle. He continued to hurl just about every insult ever uttered in the history of the universe. Through the tiny silver Mykle could make out the reddening of his face.

"Untie me and take this blindfold off and I'll lead you to the Jedi on the ground." Even through the loud curses, Tyvek clearly foaming at the mouth, Trott made out the words forming the seemingly genuine proposition and was intrigued. Hastily, yet with some caution, approached Mykle and first let his eyesight return. A little too eager he head butted the gut of Trott, taking the air right out of his pink lungs. Quickly, Mykle was subdued thanks to a blow to the head. It did not knock him out, however. But gave him a severe headache. To add to this, the pain in his leg returned. Perhaps garnering an infection.

Regathering himself, Trott dust himself off and delivered a tic-for-tac attack on Mykle's jaw in a nonchalant manner.

"Now then, where were we?" Trott asked as if he was resuming an eagerly awaited date. He adjusted his collar. "About that Jedi-" a swift head-butt courtesy of Tyvek gave Trott a bloody lip. His hands freed thanks to the binds being broken by a pierce of blown off shrapnel from the staff of one of the guards, short - circuiting the binds wiring. He incapacitated one of the other guards, robbing him of his staff.

"We were in the middle of discussing your surrender." Tyvek exhibited uncharacteristically a large quantity of bravado. Untying Mykle, he quickly handed him a blaster. "Good plan." He complimented.

"You're dogs... call them off." Mykle says.

"Impossible. As we speak my men are in the process of burning your defenses to the town, soon we'll have the princess in our grasp."

"That's where you're wrong!" Tyvek bellows. "We can hold out longer than you. The people of Thebeska do not give up easily. You're air support has been wiped out."

"That's where you're wrong." Trott points out. "I have reinforcements coming. It took a lot of cajoling, but I managed to scrounge it together." Right on cue a Star Destroy emerged from hyperspace above them.

"We will deploy the TIE Fighters on your command, Admiral." Trott smirks.

"I just say the word and-" Mykle shoots the various control desks laying about. Those manning their respective posts cowered on the floor to avoid having a hole burned through them.

"It seems in your infinite hubris you've led us into a situation of superiority." Mykle ushers the officers out, leaving just them three in the main room. "You wanted us to witness the death of our friends, instead you'll see the end of your career."

"Are you sure?"

"Deployment in T-minus five-minutes." Once again, Trott flashed his every cocky smile. Before either of them could ask how, Trott used the chance to take advantage of the briefly distracted Mykle to tackle him. Proceeding to pummel his skull in. Mykle eventually managed to flip them over, but Trott did not give up the offensive.

Tyvek didn't waste time trying to assist Mykle. The safety of the princess far exceeded the well-being of one random soul. Last time he tried to break through an imperial firewall it resulted in them bringing reinforcements in the battle for Kamino. Hopefully he's learned from those setbacks.

"Why don't you just lay down and die!" Trott hissed, grinding his teeth to dust as he proceeded to choke life out of Mykle, his elbow crushing his windpipe. His battered and bruised hands clasp themselves around Trott's head, his thumbs trying to no avail to push his eyeballs back. Using the last ounces of strength Mykle managed to free his neck from the burly hands that nearly choked the life out of him, giving Trott a bloodied cheek after a hard left hand - resulting in the breaking of his knuckle.

"Mykle!" Tyvek briefly turns back to toss Mykle his blaster, he would have caught it too if it weren't for his beyond useless left hand. It dropped down the floor below the elevated runway. Knowing he missed his chance, he took cover under the floor to retrieve the gun just in time to miss a shot intended for his back side which would've ended his run.

"You can't catch?" Tyvek dryly comments. Mykle chuckles, showing off his right hand as his reply.

"Best to show yourselves!"

"Or what?!" Mykle was never one to banter. He mouthed to Tyvek "how much time we have?" referring to the unleashing of the TIE Fighters. "Two-minutes" he mouthed in reply.

"Hey, Trott!" Mykle thinks fast. "You like to duel?" Trott smiles. He fancied himself a dueler.

"Yes" He says naturally.

"Well then how about one to settle our differences?" Mykle proposed. "I'll even use my right!" Trott didn't know how badly Mykle's left hand was; he also wasn't ambidextrous.

"Alright" Trott holsters his blaster, holding his hands above his head to show he is beyond using this as a ploy just to shoot Mykle once out of his hole. Tyvek suggested Mykle shoot Trott on the spot. Mykle refused.

"You've gone mad."

"Yah, angry." He is about to get up before he wanted to make sure all the bases were covered. "Take the cartridge out of your gun!"

Rolling his eyes, Trott complies asking Mykle to do the same. They got up, circling one another.

"Your hand" Trott notices it bleed. The red liquid drips on to Mykle's brown sneakers. Not one to enjoy the sight of their own bodily fluid, Mykle does not look. His eyes zeroed in on the blonde haired Trott. "We draw on three."

"1..." the lull between the numbers tested their discipline. A struggle between their will to survive and pride ensued from within. Trott would rather die honorably than live a coward. Mykle, who didn't have much to live for, certainly didn't care to be killed. The pain in his body grew in feeling.

"2..." His brain communicates to his right hand to be ready. But at this point his most trustworthy organ began to betray him.

"3!" One shoot followed by another. A nicked arm for one of the combatants, a shot to the chest for the other. Mykle collapsed in the heap, blood leaking from his mouth. Trott stiffened, walking backwards nursing the wound in his left arm.

"C'mon!" Tyvek watches taps in Morse code an order to halt the deployment of the TIE Fighters, portending it's from Trott and the Star Destroyer lost its power. Which was true. Tyvek shooting control panels lead to the emergency dark red lights acting as the lone source of visibility. The Destroyer drifts lazily. Before he could finish, Trott shot Tyvek in the back. He crumbles to the floor, hands twitching mad.

"A valiant effort, but a futile one." Trott stands over his wounded adversary. "Just like those before you I've come out the victor." The loudest shot ever fired followed, then the audible drop of a blaster. Trott turns around, eyes wider than saucers witnessing the thought-to-be dead Mykle standing straight up holding the smoking gun.

"You should have finished the job" His voice echos like thunder. Trott falls. Mykle's legs lose sturdiness once more, he crumbles coughing mad. Crawling across the runway to the floor. Tyvek is almost finished with his message. He goes to him, seeing his is still breathing, barely. "C'mon Tyvek!" He shakes him. "Live for just 30 more seconds!" He places him in front of the computer, lazily, Tyvek's shaking extremities finish tapping the code. Falling backwards into Mykle's arms as if performing a trust fall exercise.

"What did you type?" Mykle asks.

"Do not deploy... on orders of the Emperor" he breathes.

"How long until they find out that what you said is a lie?"

"About long enough for us to crash this thing into them." Tyvek smiles, Mykle does too. Getting back to his feet, Mykle limps to the opposite side of the main room managing to set up an escape pod. "Hey..." Tyvek croaks. "What are you doing?"

"I can take it from here." Mykle tells him proudly.

"No... this is my-" Mykle didn't give him a chance to say another word. Closing the door. Luckily the Star Destroyer performed a blocking of the view, allowing for a safe escape.

"The universe is not done with you." He looks to the black planet, looking ever so peaceful even in the midst of chaos. "This is for you, Tiana."


	24. Chapter 24

It's done. Ashoka dodges the grim specter of death. Shot down, the rust bucket that needed to either act accordingly or take the brunt of her fall from the sky did the latter. Her head suffered a blunt blow to the sensitive montrals. But she was still conscious. Conscious enough to see the twin Star Destroyers above, more than a stones throw away from the atmosphere but still a concerning sight nonetheless.

"Oh no." They has exhausted every bit of their resources against an enemy that had no shortage of them. It was just now when their disadvantages came to undo all of their hard work. In search for answers where she found none, she hung her head low. The subsequent booting and hollering followed. Ahsoka expected the sounds to come from Imperial officers only to see the two Star Destroyers go up in flames as one crashed into the other. The perplexing sight more than startled her. This occurrence felt more like a dream than reality.

"Onward! We have them on the run" another said, the spectacle that had just taken place ignited a fire in all of the bellies of the revolutionaries inspired to push back the invading force knowing this was all the Empire had left to offer.

Ahsoka rushes back to join one of the squadrons, Chester sees her.

"It's a good thing you're still alive!" Chester expected to have loss CeCe, Tyvek and Mykle at this point. It's good to have kept one of the crucial leaders. Even with the dramatic shift in the tide of battle, the one card the Empire still had was their tanks still advancing forward. Handed a couple charges Ahsoka soars tossing them into the respective hatches and leaping away after the fact, light as a feather. Her brilliant blue eyes witnessing the destruction of the last limb of the Imperial army. The retreat begins. But Ahsoka does not follow. Her senses guide her deeper into the town, not before telling Jennings to not give chase.

Venturing down in the cellar, the loud creeks that lead to the opening of the door to find two women holding on to each other tightly. CeCe held her pistol out, firing a shot once seeing Ahsoka's shadow - of course not knowing it's her.

"It's me!" She says. "You can come out now." Her warm smile tells CeCe and the young Leia that all was right again.

* * *

There was a ruckus celebration on Thebeska. Once the driest planet in all of the Galactic Republic swam in the cheapest of liquors. Despite the loss of a limb, Jennings was just as chipper. Hugging everyone within arms reach, drinking himself silly. He could not drink liquor given his recent surgery, CeCe gives him crystal soda and lies it's bubbly Raada ale. Ahsoka did not drink. Not feeling up to partaking in the celebration. It also felt fairly dangerous, seeing how people climbed street signs and inadvertently torn them down. She hopes the police force would quell this behavior, then remember Thebeska's police was mostly made of Imperial Loyalists.

"Should someone stop them?" Ahsoka asks.

"No." Tyvek sits, his body still aching. His arm laid neatly in a sling, preferring to stay in doors for the time being as the overwhelming heat would give his body an odor. "They'll be fine. Besides, CeCe is on it."

"I've never seen people happy to have won the battle, not the war."

"To them, Ahsoka, this is the war."

Ahsoka decided to go outside and see if CeCe needed any help keeping the peace. Champaign and beads rained from the sky from strangers just passing by. Random strangers came up just to give Ahsoka a big hug like she was family.

"You're the one who started it all!" One man says. "Thank you! Thank you!" His wife, or whomever she was, had to restrain him from getting on his knees to kiss her feet he was so grateful. The scene made Ahsoka feel very uncomfortable to say the least. She was not royalty. She wasn't even a Jedi.

"CeCe" She tugs on her long black sleeve to get her attention. It's impossible with all the noise to hear yourself think. CeCe turns around, appearing to be in a daze. "What's wrong." Ahsoka looks behind her to see a little girl holding a placard, on it was Mykle's face. The caption reads: have you seen my brother?

At first, Ahsoka is distrusting towards the gesture. Then, something inside her tells her this is real. That this little girl did in fact survive and is of Mykle's blood. Suddenly, all of the noise washes out, all she can make out is a low ringing. The words creep into her consciousness without hesitation.

"Please take care of her, Ahsoka."


End file.
